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Marriages. 



3>TO'VEL. 

BY HENRY OkEVILLE. 

AUTHOR OF "‘SAV^:LI’S EXPIATION/^ ‘^A FRIEND/’ “ GABRIELLE,” 
‘‘DOSIA/’ ‘‘marrying off A DAUGHTER,” “ SONIA,” 
“pretty little COUNTESS ZINA,” ETC. 

WITH A PHEPAOE TO HEP AMEEIOAH EEADEES, 

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH 
BY MISS HELEN STANLEY. 

I 



** Philont^ne* s Marriages ” is a story of French life, located in Normandy, and also 
in Paris, and is a translation from the French of a new work by the gifted and pop- 
ular authoress, Henry GrCville, whose works have become so famous and popular, 
that they no longer require any elaborate uitroduction to the reading public. The 
heroine's life in this charming story is one of every-day occurrences, made up of the 
never-ending round of country pleasures and duties, narrated in a most fascinating 
manner, amid scenes of French life in Normandy, and is an admirable picture of 
peasant country hotne-life, being a comedy of life, full of cleverness and wit, while 
the book is coJ7tmendable for its high moral tone, as well as its interest, which is 
preserved throughout. 



T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS; 
306 CHESTNUT STREET. 


copyright: 

I*. B. BBTEBSOIST &o BBOTHEBS, 

1879. 


- j. -#• 

X’ .. 



V 


Pliilomene’s Marriag'es. From the French of “Zes Mariages de PhiUmene.'^' 
By Henry Greville^ author of “ Dosia,” “ Saveli’s Expiation,” etc. 

The American edition of “ Philomene’s Marriaoes,” contains a Preface written by 
Henry Greville, addressed to her American Readers, which is not in the French edition. 
Translated in Paris, from Henry Greville' s manuscript^ by Miss Helen Stanley. 

Pretty Kiittle Countess Zina. By Hem'y Greville, author of “Dosia,” 
“ Saveli’s Expiation,” “A Friend,” etc. I'ranslated by Mary Heal Sherwood. 

“ Pretty Little Countess Zina ” is a careful study. Zina, the youthful Countess, 
beam a certain resemblance to Dosia — that bewitching creature — ^in her dainty wilfulaess, 
while the Ward and cousin, Vassalissa, is a new creation. 

l>osia. A Russian Story. Complete and Unabridged. By Henry Griville, author 
of “Saveli’s Expiation,” “ Marrying Off a Daughter,” “ Sonia,” etc. 

“ Dosia ” has been crowned by the French Academy as the Prize Novel of the year. 
It is a charming story of Russian society, and is crisp, fresh and pure; while its fascina- 
tion is powerful, genuine, and legitimate. It is written with a rare grace of style, is 
brilliant, thoroughly excellent in its character -drawing, interesting in jdot, pleasing and 
attractive. “Dosia” is an exquisite creaiion, and is pure and fresh as a rose. 

Marrying’ OIF a I>augliter. By Henry GreriVZe, author of “ Dosia,” “Saveli’s 
Expiation,” “Gabrielle,” “A Friend,” etc. Translated by Mary Heal Sherwood. 
“Marrying Off A Daughter” is gay, sparhling, and pervaded by a delicious tone of 
quiet humor, wdiile the individuality of the characters is very marked. 'J'he mother 
tmvels all over Europe to find a desirable parti for her pretty daughter, who has a toler- 
able dowry, but alas ! husband after husband slips through the meshes of the net woven 
by the mother. Suffice it to say, that the book w ill be read and enjoyed by thousands. 

A Friend ; or, F’Ami, A Story of Every-Day Life. By Henry Greville, author 
of “Sonia,” “ Saveli’s Expiation.” Translated in Paris by Miss Helen Stanley. 

The story of “A Friend,” is one. of every-day life in Paris at the present day, and 
show's Henry Greville’s great talent and peculiar skill in the analysis of character. She 
draws her characters remarknbly well, and this tender and touching picture of French 
home-life will touch many hearts, as it show's how the love of a true and good w'oman 
will meet w’ith its reward and triumph at the last, in the value of true, enduring love. 

{Sonia. A Russian Story. By Henry Greville, author of “Saveli’s Expiation,” 
“ Marrying Off a Daughter,” “ Gabrielle,” etc. Translated by Mary Heal Sherwood. 

“ Sonia,” is chai*ming and refined, and is a powerful, graceful, domestic story, display- 
ing the author’s imaginative style and play of fancy, and is charmingly and most beauti- 
fully told — giving one a very distinct idea of every-day home life in Russia. 

Srt-veli’.s Expiation. By Henry Grhnlle. A dramatic and pow'erful novel, and 
a pure love story. Translated from the Fi'ench, by Mary Heal Sherwood. 

One of the most dramatic and most pow'erful novels eA'er published is “ Saveli’s Expi- 
ation,” and although the character on which the plot rests is strongly drawn, it is not 
overdraw'n, but is true to the times and situation. Powerful as it is, it is free from 
exaggeration, w'hile a pathetic love story is presented for relief. 

Ciabrielle; or. The Iffonse of Manreze. Translated from the French of 
Henry Griville, the most popular writer in Europe at the present time. 

“Gabrielle; or. The House of Maureze,” is a very touching story, most skil- 
fully told, and follow's the life of a girl whose title it bears. At sixteen, when the 
story opens, she marries into the house of Maureze; but if w'e were to tell an y^ more 
of the plot it would be to tell the story, so we advise all persons to get the book, and 
see for themselves how everything happened, and how excellently it is all told. 


AUTHOR’S PREFACE 


TO 

PHILOMENE’S MAERIAGES. 


TO MY AMERICAN READER^ 


R eaders^ you who take the trouble to buy 
my book and to read it, though you after- 
wards should curse the unlucky author, who offers 
you exactly the contrary to what you desire : a 
gay story when you are in a bad humor, a sad one 
when you have every reason in the world for 
wishing to be. amused-^ — permit me to introduce 
myself to you. So many absurd things have been 
said about me, that a little truth, I think, will do 
good to every one. 

In the first place, my readers, it has been said 

( 11 ) 


12 


AU T IIOR’S preface. 


that I am Russian, that my husband is Russian, 
and that my education was Russian. Nothing is 
more untrue. I was born in Paris, where I was 
educated in the bosom of my family; and then the 
time having come for me to earn my own living, 
I followed my father to Russia. It was there I 
became acquainted with the language and the 
customs of that country. But I had married a 
Frenchman, and our love for our native land drew 
us homewards. At first I began by passing a few 
months every year in France, and my countrymen 
seemed to me as interesting to study as Russians. 
They had not for me the attraction of the un- 
known; but I had strengthened my faculties of 
observation, and I remarked a thousand points 
of interest in them, where others only saw every- 
day life, the common-place of home existence. 
The yearning towards our country became^ so 
strong that seven years ago we returned to 
Paris; and here it is that I have written all 
my works, except one short novel and two or 
three stories. 


author’s preface. 


13 


Tell me, my readers, why should I be obliged 
never to describe any other than Russian society, 
and by what strange law should I be forbidden to 
exert my powers of observation in regard to my 
countrymen ? 

It is in order that I may be allowed to do this, 
that I present Philomme to you to-day. This per- 
son does not approach perfection even in a remote 
way, but none are perfect — except doubtlessly the 
critics, who, like Bayard, are sans peur et sans 
reproclie. It is probably from this immense 
idiosyncrasy that some of them have informed 
you that my husband is a Russian nobleman, and 
that I have no knowledge whatever of French 
habits and society. They will read this and 
remain impeccable, for that is one of their com- 
mon attributes. 

I take all the more interest in describing French 
life to you, since I have learned, American readers, 
that you have shown me a great deal of indulgence, 
and that my name is, perhaps, as familiar to you, 
as to my own countrymen. This amiability on 


14 


authok’s preface. 


your part makes me desire to thank you as far as 
is in my power, and I think I may be rendering 
you a service in giving you a truthful idea of 
French life. 

The novels of my contemporaries, that are the 
most frequently read in other countries, are devoted 
to painting the exceptions of life, both in regard to 
good and evil; my desire is to make you know 
French people as they are, as one meets them in 
the street, at the theatre, in shops, at their own 
houses — especially in their own houses, in their 
modest homes, which are as respectable, and as 
well ordered, as the greater part of those in other 
countries. We have been given the reputation of 
a people who are never at home, whose women 
are all perverse, whose men all bad. Alas ! for 
the interest that criminals inspire ! Thank God ! 
also, for the cause of morality, we are an honest 
people, whose sons respect their mothers, whose 
mothers sacrifice themselves for their children, 
whose husbands are devoted ones, and whose 
wives are courageous and loving, exactly as they 


author’s preface. 


15 


are elsewhere; no more so, perhaps, but not less 
so, than in other countries ! 

I fear that the aureole of fire that crowns 
our perverse brows will grow dim in the eyes of 
those who read my books; there will be some, 
perhaps, who will cease to take any interest in 
us, as soon as we shall no longer appear altogether 
horrible. 

But if some desert us, the great majority, I feel 
sure, will rejoice in thinking that we also know 
what are the pure joys of the fireside, the content- 
ment of duty accomplished, and the ineffable 
tenderness of family life. 

After all, those of our people, who fought at 
your side for your independence in the last 
century, were not vulgar chevaliers of scandalous 
adventures, and not in boudoirs had they learned 
to love justice and liberty ! You remember this, 
perhaps, at times, my American readers ; and you 
will be glad to know that the mothers of our 
country bring up sons who are worthy of their 
ancestors. That is better than attaining the 


16 


author’s preface. 


brilliant and unhealthy renown of heroes of 
romance. Finally, if I may have been able to 
inspire you with this w^holesome view, I shall be 
very happy, my American readers — and you also, 
I am sure. 

Henry Ge£ville. 

Pabis, Fbance, January 18th, 1879. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. PHILOM^iNE’S SORROWS 19 

II. A PROPOSAL 27 

III. HUNTING}- A HUSBAND 35 

lY. AN OLD SUITOR 47 

V. “the PARISIAN” AND HER COUSIN 61 

YI. THE MOSS-GROWN HOUSE 67 

YII. COFFEE AND CONYERSATION 77 

Yiii. marie’s INYITATION 84 

IX. YIRGINIE AND HER WEDDING STOCKINGS 89 

X. KEEPING SECRETS 105 

XI. THE Y^OLF Ill 

XII. A SUDDEN INYASION 119 

XIII. HOW HAPPY COULD I BE WITH EITHER 127 

XI Y. AN IDEAL WIFE 131 

XY. GRATUITOUS ADYICE 133 

XYI. A TRUMP-CARD 141 

XYII. FATE GRANTS US WHAT WE DESERYE 147 

XYIII. ANXIETY 150 

XIX. A PRETTY PICTURE 157 

XX. PRIYATE THEATRICALS 160 


( 17 ) 


18 


CONTENTS 


CUAPTEB PAGB 

XXI. SAD COOKING 168 

XXII. THE TALE OF A BASKET 172 

XXIII. INDECISION ISO 

XXIV. SORREL AND TREFOIL 184 

XXV. NEAV ASPIRATIONS ]94 

XXVI. PLAN FOR THE FUTURE 200 

XXVII. A QUESTION OF TOILETTE 203 

XXVIII. A VISIT TO THE THEATRE 208 

XXIX. HOW TO EAT AN ORANGE 217 

XXX. DIELETTE ONCE MORE 229 

XXXI. MADAME AUBIER WRITES A LETTER 238 

XXXII. CONFIDENCES 255 

XXXIII. AN ENVOY PLENIPOTENTIARY 266 

XXXIV. SUCCESS 280 

XXXV. PARIS FASHIONS ; 285 

XXXVI. A TELEGRAM 301 

XXXVII. AN EXTRAORDINARY LETTER 313 

XXXVIII. TURNING THE TABLES 318 


PHILOMilNE’S MARRIAGES. 


FROM THE FRENCH OP 


“LES MAEIAGES DE PHILOMfeNE.” 
BY HENRY GREVILLE. 


Translated in Paris, from the Author’s Manuscript, 


BY MISS HELEN STANLEY. 


CHAPTER I. 
philomj^ne’s soerows. 

OU see, my dear lady, I have had much trouble,^^ 



concluded the widow, wiping her eyes, and still 


I much fear I am not at the end of it/^ 

“ Why ? asked Madame Aubier, innocently. 

Because the money affairs are not finished, and I am 
sure my late husband’s family will not arrange them 
advantageously for me.” 

^^You could not ask them that,” said the good lady, 
not without some evidence of good sense. Your husband 
married you in spite of them ; they have no reason what- 
ever for benefiting you in that division.” (19) 


20 


philomI:ne’s marriages. 


Since two years, that this has continued, it seems to 
me, however, that they might have ended it ; but — 

Madame Philomene Cr^pin left her phrase unfinished, 
and her confidante tried to terminate it for her. 

But they hoped to weary your patience by their delays ? 

Philomene replied, energetically, ^Mt is I who 
retard them, and they will end by yielding from weari- 
ness, if not with a good grace ! 

^^Ah ! said Madame iVubier, regarding the widow with 
a certain admiration, mingled with surprise at this clever 
conception, of which she had not believed her capable. 

The two women remained silent for a moment, and 
Philom^ne’s confidante profited by this time of repose to 
look discreetly out of the window, which she had on her 
left hand side. A wan light penetrated through this win- 
dow, ornamented with little white calico curtains; the red 
cords that gathered up the soft folds of tiie calico, that 
had no stiffness in it, did not succeed in giving it a hospit- 
able aspect, any more than did some flowers placed on the 
inside of the window on a pine shelf made for the purpose, 
that rested on two cross-bars. The flowers, it must be 
confessed, were not of those whose engaging appearance 
invite sight or smell — they were superb cactii of all species, 
ball, pear, racket, and candle-shaped, and all bristling with 
menacing points and thorns. Nature has not willed that 
cactii should be attractive when they are not in bloom ; 
perhaps a certain mysterious affinity was the reason of 
the passion v/hich Madame Crepin felt for fat plants. 

The bureau, surmounted by a looking-glass, that was 


philom^:ne^s maekiages. 


21 


hung at a height that rendered it perfectly superfluous, 
served as an Uagh'Cy and a prodigious quantity of strange 
and useless objects encumbered it from the wall to its ex- 
treme edge — exotic shells, porcelain figures, small baskets 
made of plaited straw, carved cocoa-nuts — in a word, all 
the rubbish that is found in seaports, in sailors’ homes, 
and in the houses of their relations and friends. An in- 
spection of this bureau amply sufSced to prove that Mon- 
sieur Cr6pin in his lifetime had been a merchant-captain. 

The rest of the furniture, that was neat and simple, 
differed in no wise from that which is seen in the homes 
of modest provincial bourgeois. The floor was of stone; 
large slabs of schist, worn by the feet of several genera- 
tions, w’ere joined unequally, forming little cavities where 
the housedame’s broom waged redoubtable combats with 
dust every day. Violet-colored chintz bed-curtains, a 
large and handsome cupboard of old oak wood, a round 
table covered with oil-cloth, and a large cat in the im- 
mense chimney-place, with its pine mantel-piece blackened 
by smoke, completed the arrangement of this tidy, but 
unattractive room. 

^^It rains, does it not?” asked Madame Cr^pin, follow- 
ing her friend’s look. 

Yes; but not very hard, however. There goes Mon- 
sieur Lavenel !” 

The widow controlled a very slight impulse that urged 
her towards the window; then she wiped her eyes once 
more with her handkerchief. 

^^Ah ! my poor lady,” continued she, how much 
unhappiness one has in life!” 


22 


PHILOM^:NE^S MARRIAGES. 


You have had your share, Philom^ne!’^ said Madame 
Aubier, in a conciliatory tone. You can hope for better 
days. And, not to reproach the Captain’s memory, you 
are more at peace than you have ever been since his 
death.” 

Madame Cr^pin sighed. 

Sailors’ wives are very unhappy,” said she; ^^if their 
husbands are on shore, they tremble lest they shall go 
away, and when they are at sea it is far worse — ” 

^‘But, Philom^ne, I could never understand why you 
married a sailor? Your father kept a small shop; you 
could have carried it on, or begun housekeeping with 
some good fellow, who would have given you help. One 
makes a fortune in such wise, while with a sailor one 
spends all one has ! ” 

I never liked trade, Madame Aubier,” said the widow, 
confidentially laying her hand on her visitor’s knee. I 
detested brown sugar, ground pepper and chicory ; I 
swore to myself I would leave shop-keeping, and I have 
left it.” 

Madame Aubier said to herself : 

I don’t see that you have gained anything by it ! ” 
But as she was a prudent and clever woman, she kept 
her reflection to herself. 

^^The man who bought the business from you, after 
your brother’s inheritance, has done well; he has enlarged 
the shop by half, and now he has begun to sell pork.” 

Faugh!” Philom^ne said, disdainfully. To sell 
grease, and always to have soiled hands, is not a fine 
trade I ” 


PHILOM|]NE’s marriages. 


23 


^^They have, however, married their daughter very 
well,^’ Madame Aubier answered, more vivaciously; ^^and 
their son-in-law did not find their money dirty 

^^To whom did you tell me they married her?^^ asked 
Philom^ne, with an absent air, her sullen look following 
attentively the expressions on the face of the good lady, 
without the latter’s perceiving it. 

^^To a member of the Chamber of Commerce of H^vre, 
the son of Father Martinet, who made fifteen thousand 
francs income in the brandy trade — a notable tradesman, 
all that is desirable.” 

The widow Cr6pin indicated, by a disdainful movement 
of her shoulders, that a notable tradesman of Havre 
weighed no more than a straw in her scales. 

There are some for all tastes,” she then said. 
know very well had I been a man, I would never have 
married the daughter of a lard merchant!” 

Your husband, though, married a grocer’s daughter!” 
replied Madame Aubier, provoked to maliciousness by 
Philom^ne’s conversation. Come, my dear, don’t set 
yourself up; you well know that no trade is despicable, 
and besides your father-in-law was a simple fisherman 
from Granville. There is nothing to be said against those 
who, having begun from the bottom of the ladder, 
ascend it. We are all equal before the Lord; it is only 
our virtues or our faults that niake a difference.” 

The widow Crepin did not answer. She owed Madame 
Aubier five hundred francs, and bestowed all the more 
consideration upon her, because she had no decided 


24 PHILOMiiNE^S MARRIAGES. 

intention of paying them back to her before an extremely 
distant epoch. 

Besides, Madame Aubier was the wife of a retired 
infantry captain, a government employ^ ; she was rich — 
at least comparatively so to her slightly gilded mediocrity; 
Madame Aubier had no children, and her servant cooked 
exceedingly well. Now, Philom^ne liked delicate bits, and 
then one met a great many people at this person’s house, 
and always very nice people, so she must not quarrel with 
such a desirable person. 

Then,” continued Madame Aubier, desirous of pallia- 
ting by a mark of interest what there might have been 
bitter in her recent lecture, ^^you are going to leave ofi‘ 
mourning on Sunday?” 

^^Alas! leave off mourning! It is not leaving off 
mourning to put white and black on my bonnet, instead 
of plain crape ! I shall never wear light colors, surely I 
But black is so soiling ! ” 

‘^And then, two years of mourning is all that one can 
exact,” concluded Madame Aubier, smiling. ^^Do you 
know, Philom^ne, I have an idea that you will marry 
again ! ” 

I ! Good Lord ! Ah ! if ever such a thought comes 
to me, it will be because I shall have lost my reason. 
After all my sorrows, the loss of my husband and that of 
my three children ! Ah ! Madame Aubier, I believed you 
had a better opinion of me.” 

There is no harm in one’s wishing to marry again,” 
answered the honest woman, unmoved; “ the harm would 


philomI:ne’s marriages. 


25 


be in allowing one’s self to be courted by gallants, and not 
wishing to be remarried; this is not your case, Philomene; 
but don’t say you are not going to be married^ or else they 
might ask you why you raise up the corner of your 
curtain when Monsieur Lavenel goes by in the morning, 
and your room is not yet arranged.” 

^^Who told you so?” the widow began, crimson with 
confusion and probably also with anger ; but she remem- 
bered very fortunately that Madame Aubier lived opposite 
to her on the other side of the street, and that she had no 
need of asking information on that chapter. 

The good lady smiled, and her double chin shook com- 
placently on the white silk handker^ief she always wore 
around her neck. 

^^It is very natural,” she continued. Lavenel is not 
ugly, he is not stupid ; they say he is a little hard towards 
people, but husbands are not always the same to their 
wives as they are to other persons; it might be, he would 
make a good husband.” 

‘^Ah ! Madame Aubier, stop your discourse, or else I 
shall think you wish to pain me ! After having loved 
my poor Cr6pin so much, can you believe I would desire 
to marry a Lavenel! My husband was a hundred times 
handsomer and nicer, and it is not Lavenel who could 
make me forget him.” 

^^As you will, Philomene, as you will. It is your affair 
and not mine ; besides affection does not come at com- 
mand, nor hatred either. Now, as it rains no longer, I 
will return home; good-evening!” 

2 


26 


philom^:ne’s maeriaqes. 


Do you wish an umbrella, Madame Aubier ? said 
the widow, eagerly. 

‘^Why, no, thanks, the rain is over; and besides it 
would not be necessary just to cross the street. Well, 
good-evening, Philomene ; till one of these days.’^ 

^^Till one of these days, Madame Aubier; many thanks 
for your visit ! 

On this Normand formula, that does not mention any 
date, the two ladies separated. Philomene re-entered her 
home, and stout Madame Aubier, panting and smiling, 
nodded to the gossips on their door-steps and hastened to 
cross the street. 

Lavenel ! said she with contempt, out loud, when she 
found herself alone ; Lavenel ! a fine match for me ! I 
shall want something better than that, when I have made 
up my mind.^^ 


PHILOMi:NE’s MARKIAGES. 


27 


CHAPTEE IL 


A PROPOSAL. 



IHE night had come. Philom^ne, who, as we have 


J- said, did not dislike good eating, was just about 
removing from the fire a veal cutlet with its usual accom- 
paniment of green peas, and inhaled with a voluptuous 
melancholy the appetizing odor of her supper. Voluptu- 
ously, one understands why; with melancholy, because 
meat is so dear! An indiscreet hand knocked twice on 
the door, and immediately a visitor entered. 

^^Ah ! it is you, Monsieur Lavenel ? said Philom^ne, 
in a tone that had nothing engaging in it. 

Yes, neighbor, it is myself; do I disturb you?^^ 

The widow had had time to cover the saucepan and to 
deposit it on the hearth ; she approached the intruder, 
saying to him : 

Oh I no ; oh ! no ! exactly as though she had said ; 

Oh I yes ; oh 1 yes ! 

You see, I gathered some cherries a little while ago, 
before the rain, Madame Crepin — they are not wet, don^t 
be afraid — and I have brought you a few.’^ 

The few cherries quite filled a basket, which their owner 
placed on the table, with that sort of pride which it is 
agreed to call modesty. 


28 


PHILOMi]NE^S MARRIAGES. 


But, Monsieur Lavenel, I shall never eat all those ! 
exclaimed the widow, a little softened. 

^^You can make them into preserves,’^ returned the 
gallant visitor. 

Sugar is so dear,^^ murmured Philom^ne, contemplating 
the cherries with a sad eye. 

Bah ! said the bachelor, with an easy air ; in your 
position one can procure one’s self many sweets ! ” 

That is where you deceive yourself,” energetically an- 
swered Madame Cr^pin. You must not imagine that I 
am well-off ; I have hardly enough to make the two 
ends meet, and only do so by depriving myself of every- 
thing!” 

Any how, don’t deprive yourself of cherries ; here are 
some, that only ask to be eaten.” 

Lavenel, with an absent air, plunged his hand into the 
basket and took out a handful of fruit, which he began to 
nibble slowly, keeping the stems and pits in his left hand. 
Philom^ne looked at him with a curious air; he raised his 
head and met her look, which instantly became full of 
sweetness. 

Happily,” thought Lavenel, know you — or other- 
wise I should think you as sweet as honey. Ah ! that 
would be an illusion ! ” As this phrase could not be 
translated into civilized language, he added, out loud : 

You distress yourself a great deal, do you not, Madame 
Cr^pin?” 

^^About what, my dear Monsieur?” the widow asked, 
prudently. 


philomI:ne’s marriages. 


29 


^^Why, about everything! At being alone, at being a 
widow, for having lost your children — Philom^ne 
wiped her eyes. ^^At seeing your affairs drag on so long 
without ending — Do you wish rne to say something? 
It needs a man to carry on all that ! You will never get 
out of it all alone ! 

They have told me ro,’^ observed Philom^ne, with a 
wise air. After half a second, she added : But I have 
no relations near enough to burthen themselves with my 
affairs.^’ 

It is not necessary to be related, in order to help one 
another, neighbor,’^ returned Lavenel, after having allowed 
an appreciable time to elapse, as though he had been med- 
itating his answer : I am not a relation of yours, but if 
I can be of service to you in anything — 

Oh ! Monsieur Lavenel, you know very well that that 
could not be ! What would they say of it round about 
said Philom^ne, modestly, lowering her eyes. 

They can say what they choose, neighbor, and then, 
all that they might say would not, perhaps, be far off 
from the truth. 

Philomene, who had remained standing until then, sat 
down, turning her back to the light, and Lavenel, in order 
to master his eloquence the better, laid on the corner of 
the table the little heap of stems and pits that he held in 
his left hand. 

They will say, you have friendship for me, and that I 
have the same for you. As far as concerns myself, at least, 
they will not lie, for I have friendship for you, Madame 
Cr4pin, and a great deal of it ! 


30 


philoimi^ne’s marriages. 


Madame Cr^pin smiled faintly, and her interlocutor sat 
down opposite to her. 

If you would/^ continued he, confidentially, ^^we might 
make a pair of friends ; you are in a nice position — 

‘^Ah ! neighbor, I am very poor ; I do not know who 
could have spoken to you about my position ; certainly, it 
is not an enviable one ! 

Well, then, neighbor, you must change it for another,’’ 
triumphantly concluded Lavenel. 

You talk very easily about it,” murmured Philomene, 
making some little folds in her apron, which she held in 
her left hand. 

You have only a word to say, Madame Cr^pin,” prof- 
fered Lavenel, rising and placing his hand on his heart; 

Theodore Lavenel, grain and flour merchant, offers you 
his hand and his fortune ! ” 

Philomene continued to gather together two or three 
more little folds of stuff, then she opened her hand and let 
them all escape at once. 

‘^You do me a great deal of honor, neighbor,” she 
answered, in a wheedling voice. 

Do you accept ? ” cried the grain and flour merchant, 
making a step towards her. 

Excuse me, neighbor, I do not like trade,” said Philo- 
m^ne, with the same sweet voice. 

Lavenel stood stupefied, his mouth half open; nothing 
had made him foresee this answer. 

The widow was not in the habit of being, according to 
the language of the country, more amiable than is neces- 


philomI]ne’s marriages. 


31 


sary/^ and certainly she had received her visitor very well, 
until then ; the latter might have therefore prided himself 
on her especial kindness: whence came this unexpected 
refusal ? This he asked her as soon as his surprise per- 
mitted him to speak. 

I do not like trade/^ repeated Madame Cr^pin, with 
an amiable smile, ^^you know it well, neighbor; for since 
I have been in the world, I have not ceased saying so.” 

^^That is not a good reason,” replied Lavenel; ^^one 
might not like trade and still not dislike a tradesman.” 

Madame Cr^pin smiled again, and lowered her eyes; 
then her face regained an expression of resigned sadness. 

Neighbor,” said she, after all the sorrows I have had, 
after having loved my poor husband, as I loved him, the 
thought, even, of marriage is very painful to me; — and 
then,” added she, without looking at her pursuer, ^^my 
mourning is not even finished.” 

‘^As you will, neighbor,” replied the grain and flour 
merchant ; this, perhaps, is not your last word.” 

He went towards the door accompanied by Philom^ne, 
who looked at him askant. Witli his hand on the latch, 
he turned. 

I have an idea,” repeated he, that this is not your 
last word.” 

Perhaps not,” said the widow, with a nod of her head. 

Before the astounded Lavenel could utter a word, he 
was already in the street and the door was shut. 

^^The odd woman!” murmured he, as he regained his 
shop; ^^if she had not her few sous, I would send her to 
the deuce, the conceited creature ! ” 


32 


philom^ne’s marriages. 


While the subject of this discourse returned to her 
cutlet, with a smile as enigmatical if not as sweet as 
the ^^JoGondes,^^ Monsieur Lavenel entered his home, 
where his mother was awaiting him behind the counter, 
knitting indigo-blue woollen stockings, the dye coming 
off on her fingers. 

Well?^^ said the old woman, pushing her fifth needle 
under the band of her Normand coiffe^ with its two winged- 
like sides looped up. 

^^She refused,^^ said her son, with a sullen air. 

^^Eefused! but not really — not entirely replied the 
cunning old peasant. 

No ! not entirely. How could you know, mother, that 
she only half refused me?’^ 

Because I know this Crepin woman ; she is an arrant 
coquette, and a vain creature.^^ 

There is, however, no reason for her being so,’^ mur- 
mured Lavenel, thinking of the yellow hair and pointed 
nose of the lady of his thoughts. 

^^Ah ! yes, son, there is a reason. Master Toussaint’s 
under-clerk passed here a little while ago, when you 
were in town; the Crepine has some valuable land, 
near Pieux, worth fifteen thousand crowns at least, and 
what is more, once her accounts of heritage are settled 
with her husband^s debtors, she will have five or six 
thousand francs in ready money. The late Cr^pin’s 
family has consented to yield her the credits coming 
to the estate, on condition that she pays the legal 
expenses,’^ 


philomI:ne’s marriages. 


3e3 


Lavenel remained thoughtful; his mother looked at 
him, as she was knitting, and patiently awaited the fruit 
of his reflections. 

^^Does she know it?^’ asked he at length. 

do not believe so. The under-clerk told me the 
letter only arrived this morning.^^ 

She will be prouder still,’^ growled Lavenel. ^^Ah ! 
if I were only not in need of money ! 

He threw his hat on the counter with a gloomy air. 

There are other girls or widows in the world,’’ ob- 
served his mother. 

Yes, but the devil willed it, that I should have a 
fancy for that one, formerly. I wish I may be hanged 
if I know why. She was pretty in former days — before 
her marriage.” 

She has gotten well over it,” philosophically observed 
Madame Lavenel. Beauty is a perishable gift.” 

^^Yes, she has gotten over it; and yet, I know not 
why, when I see her faded as she is, something stirs my 
heart ; ' it is, perhaps, because I loved her so much in past 
times. If I marry her now, it will be in order to beat 
her; yes, to be at her at my ease ! — so as to revenge myself 
for all her impertinences.” 

‘^Did she say neither yes or no to you?” Madame 
Lavenel asked, as she went to shut the shop door. 

^^She said no, and then after, she said perhaps; you 
well know her cursed habit of never saying anything 
positively.” 

^‘It is a wise habit, my son,” replied the old Normand 


34 


PHILOMi:NE’s MARRIAGES. 


woman ; it would be better to imitate it, than to blame 
it.” 

It is wise when it profits ourselves, but it is very dis- 
agreeable when it does us harm,” answered her son, as he 
followed her into the back shop for supper. But never 
mind that, VW catch her yet, that widow Cr^pin — I’ll 
catch her surely, and when she is my wife she shall pay 
me back for all my cringings.” 


philomI:ne’s marriages. 


35 


CHAPTER III, 


HUNTING A HUSBAND, 


HE following Sunday Madame Cr^pin made her 



-A. appearance in the church at Di^lette, in a bonnet 
trimmed with lilac and white marguerites ; a pretty, quite 
new lilac cravat displayed itself under her chin, and pro- 
claimed to all that her mourning was over. Mourning in 
the country, which is much more severe than that worn in 
large cities, ordains black for two years; half-mourning 
colors not daring to make their appearance before the ex- 
piration of that period, and as Madame Cr^pin had loved 
her husband a great deal, there were some rigorous per- 
sons who declared she ought to have waited at least six 
months before she left off entire black. 

Do leave the poor woman alone,^^ said stout Madame 
Aubier to a group of matrons, who were sharply criti- 
cising the widow’s marguerites ; what matters it to you 
whether she wears lilac or green at her neck? Has she 
mourned her husband any the less because of it?” 

There was no reason for mourning for him so much,” 
proffered an angular neighbor. ^‘In his lifetime she com- 
plained enough, and said he never came on shore without 
leaving her with a child on her arms ! ” 

Leave the dead in peace,” continued the good soul ; 
the Captain and his children sleep tranquilly under their 


36 


philom^:ne’s markiages. 


crosses; it is very little matter to them now whether 
Madame Cr^pin wears mourning for two or ten years ! 

She will marry again soon/’ said another friend and 
neighbor ; Lavenel goes there every day.” 

Well ! what if she should marry again?” 

^^After all the affected airs she put on at the time of the 
Captain’s funeral ! ” 

^^It was because she has a tender heart,” cunningly 
glided in a third friend and neighbor; ^^she loved her 
first husband very well ; she will love her second one still 
better ! ” 

^^Ah ! but you see the first one had a very great merit, 
that perhaps the second would not have : he was scarcely 
ever with her ! ” 

Good heavens ! ” exclaimed Madame Aubier, what 
bad tongues women have ! ” 

Far from taking this remark as an injury, the neighbors 
and friends grouped themselves around the stout lady. 

^^They don’t talk as much about you,” said the boldest, 
because you, Madame Aubier, are neither proud nor 
wicked. If everybody was like you, the world would go 
on better ! ” 

^^Come! come! That’s very well,” said the excellent 
creature ; for love of me, since I am so good, try then 
to disparage your neighbor a little less I” 

There are neighbors, and neighbors ! ” exclaimed a last 
kind tongue behind Madame Aubier, who was going away, 
quite out of breath, towards her house, and who could not 
reply. 


PHILOMi:XE’s MARRIAGES. 


37 


The subject of this conversation had returned majes- 
tically to her home amid many scrutinizing looks. When 
her door was shut, she approaclied the damp-covered mir- 
ror, and raised herself on the points of her large feet, in 
order to contemplate therein the effect of her ribbons. 
Lilac was becoming to her, that was incontestable ; under 
the ruches and flowers of her bonnet her face assumed an 
unwonted sweetness. Philomene had been handsome, 
rather than pretty; her regular features, once delicate, had 
grown large, and sunburn had hardened her skin. As she 
was, when an amiable expression animated her face, she 
was still good-looking; but in repose, in her everyday 
dress, nothing could deceive one from seeing she was 
thirty-eight years old, and that she wore her years bravely. 

With a certain complacency, she untied the strings of her 
bonnet, and placed it on a candlestick that held a candle, 
giving it the effect of a mushroom; then she put on a white 
muslin cap, and proceeded to prepare her dinner. 

While taking her repast solitarily, Philomene went over 
in her mind the events of her life. This day was a sort 
of solemnity to her — a kind of new era in her existence. 
None of the remarks whispered in a low tone in the 
church, none of the scrutinizing and curious glances 
directed at her bonnet, had escaped her, and with the 
surety of memory that characterizes people who bear 
rancor long, she had classed then! all in her mind, so 
as to revenge herself at her leisure, according to time 
and opportunity. 

But the important result she had obtained destroyed 


38 


philom^:ne’s marriages. 


the bitterness of all those sarcasms. In laying her mourn- 
ing aside openly she had prepared people’s minds for a 
second marriage, and when this event should take place, 
it would be a surprise to no one. 

Yes, I will marry again,” said she to herself, in order 
to entertain herself. ^‘Yes, certainly! After having 
passed the best years of my life in waiting for a husband 
who was always absent, I will marry again, and I will 
wed a very good-looking and very nice man, who will 
always remain with me.” 

This thought inspired her with an idea to go and look 
in her cellar for a bottle of wine — ordinarily she drank 
cider; in order to make a feast for herself of this day’s 
solemnity, she poured out a glass of old Bordeaux, 
which the Captain had brought home in days past, and 
continued the current of her meditations. 

But I must have a husband of a different stamp from 
Lavenel. A pretty bird, truly, that poor man, with his 
prune-like eyes and his Punch’s nose! He is not even 
five feet high ! I must have a large, handsome man, such 
as my late husband was, only younger, I don’t wish to 
give people cause for laughter ! ” 

On this reflection Philom^ne dipped a biscuit in her 
wine, and ceased talking to herself^ so as to reflect in 
silence. The Captain’s memory, which had been brusquely 
thrown in the midst of her plans for the future, had 
evoked many far-off thoughts. She had always been 
proud, and in the small village they had declared her 
to be unmarriageable.” Several aspirants, chosen by 


phii^omI:ne's marriages. 


39 


relations, and tacitly accepted by herself, had found them- 
selves ousted at the end of a few weeks, without anything 
on their part having been a motive for this insult. Each 
marriage that failed was not long in being followed by 
some new demand, and certain persons thought they re- 
marked that the new-comer had some advantages over the 
old ones. Philom^ne made of the pretenders to her hand 
a sort of social ladder, of which she pitilessly broke the 
rounds as soon as she found a higher one. 

This original manner of elevating herself had won for 
her a number of criticisms, some harmless, the others 
bitter, on the part of the discarded persons and their 
families. They spoke jestingly of Philomene’s mar- 
riages,’^ and soon there could not be found in the country 
a man bold enough to pay her court. Besides, the young 
men recognized the uselessness of their efforts ; although 
the young girl’s dot^ who was an only child and her parents’ 
inheritor, was modest enough even for that country, it was 
clear she would marry neither a merchant nor a farmer, 
and these two classes were about the only ones to which she 
could pretend. There still remained at Di^lette a notary, 
several retired merchants, and the captains of some small 
coasters ; but the first sought a wife from a higher sphere, 
the second were too old, and were besides — for the most 
part — married, and the last were of too small account. 
Pliilom^ne entered her twenty - seventh year without 
having found the husband of her dreams. 

She possessed at Granville a cousin younger than herself, 
an amiable, pretty, merry girl, full of amusing originality; 


40 


philom^:ne’s marriages. 


this latter had a very strange fate. She was scarcely 
eighteen years of age, when a novelist, then unknown, had 
come to take sea-baths at their beach. The young man, 
who was inflamed with a desire to write, there composed 
his best romance, for he fell desperately in love with the 
pretty Crevette fisher, and married her at the end of three 
months. Never had folly a happier ending ! The young 
woman was intelligent; she understood that she owed 
it to her husband never to make him blush for her, and 
she learned all that she ignored. With a rare wisdom, and 
one that could not have been expected in her, she desired 
to remain at Granville until she became perfectly pol- 
ished; her husband acceded to this desire; what did 
Granville or Paris matter to him, provided his wife was 
with him? The small personal fortune which he possessed 
permitted him to live liberally in the country; while in 
Paris it would have given him hardly the necessaries of 
life. A sojourn of three years in that interesting country, 
in the midst of continuous application, was at least as use- 
ful to Charles Verroy as to his wife, for he carried away 
from thence a ripe, original talent that soon won him a 
position. 

Just as Philom^ne — wearied with awaiting at Dielette 
for a husband who did not appear — had decided to go and 
seek for one elsewhere, she heard of her young cousin’s 
projected marriage. It was a good opportunity for seeing 
the country: Philom^ne ordered herself a gown and bonnet, 
and left, to be present at the wedding. 

It was a magnificent wedding; all Granville was present. 


PHILOMi:XE’s MAREIAGES. 


41 


for the marriage of this young girl without fortune or 
education with a gentleman from Paris who had four 
thousand francs income, seemed as fabulous to the people 
of the place, as if a king had married a shepherdess. For 
it must not be forgotten, that thirty years ago this country 
was yet a virgin land to the footsteps of people from the 
outer world. Among the guests was a merchant-captain, 
who had recently arrived from Brazil to see his mother ; 
Philom^ne was amiable, she was pretty, she was known to 
possess some fortune. The marriage was arranged in the 
twinkling of an eye; and three months later she was 
Madame Cr^pin. 

She held, at last, the ideal dreamed of all her life : to be 
the wife of a conspicuous person ! 

It is something to have gained one’s end, and many 
among us leave this world without being able to boast of 
having done so ; but the end one pursues in life is not a 
silver service, placed at the top of a greased pole: it is a 
moving cloud that changes form, as one makes one’s way 
on the road of existence. Madame Crepin’s end had been 
to be Madame Cr^pin ; but when she was in possession of 
this title, she wanted something else. 

At first she would have liked not to have been encum- 
bered with a brood of children; Heaven in its bounty 
accorded her five : it is true, she lost three of them in an 
epidemic, and two shortly after, which gave her rest. But 
it was eight years of her happiness and her ambition lost, 
for one is not of much account one’s self, when one is sur- 
rounded bv cradles. Just as she was beginning to enlarge 
3 


42 


PHILOMi^NE’s MAIlPvIAGES. 


her fortune, and embellish her home, the Captain had an 
unlucky fall and fractured his skull. Philom^ne found 
herself a widow. 

Her sorrow was great, for this narrow-hearted woman 
had loved her husband. Her love was rather material ; 
the better part of ourselves, the disinterested tenderness, 
the simple kindness that we feel in our affections, when 
we possess an elevated soul, had little in common with the 
jealous and hot-headed jmssion that characterized Philo- 
m^ne; but this passion was love, and Madame Cr^pin 
sincerely mourned her husband. Then, after a few 
months, a peculiar feeling, a sort of well-being, quietly 
came over her. It had been very doleful to see the earth 
cover the Captain’s coffin, but it was certainly something' 
to be able to listen to the wind moaning around the house 
with the sweet peacefulness of having no one out at sea. 

Rage, tempest, rage ! ” Philom^ne, who was addicted to 
monologues, would say : thou troublest me no longer 
now!” When other people’s children were screaming 
enough to rend one’s ears, she was wont to throw a quiet 
look around her well-arranged little home ; there were no 
mischievous fingers to write with preserves on the furni- 
ture, no playthings on the floor, no linen hung at the 
windows, no broth to make in the evening, no small 
stockings to mend at night ; and a sort of pleasant tremor 
passed over Philom^ne as she thought of her peaceful, 
present life. 

The well-thinking reader, and especially if the reader be 
the mother of a family, will be indignant with the author. 


PHILOM^iNE^S MARRIAGES. 


43 


and exclaim loudly that such monsters do not exist. A 
thousand pardons, men and women readers, they do exist, 
they are to be found everywhere; perhaps in your tailor, your 
shoemaker, your washer- w^oman, your cousin’s son-in-law, 
dear madame, when she lives no more ; your brother-in- 
law’s nephew, dear sir, who will mourn for him deeply 
and properly with a very sincere heart ; who will give him 
a superb funeral ; and a year after, while wiping the glasses 
of his lorgnette at the opera, will think that, after all, he 
did very well to die, since his death procures for him the 
possibility of such sweet pleasures. Such feelings are not 
confessed, they are not even felt in a very definite manner : 
they remain in a'vague and embryo state; but if the dead, 
even those who are sincerely mourned, should think of 
coming back and reclaiming their goods, how they would 
be sent before the courts, with their right of troubling the 
living contested ! 

So Philomene was happy in her tranquillity, which 
nothing troubled any more, and this happiness had lasted 
about ten months, when a gnawing worm glided into her 
bosom. With the Captain had disappeared the renown 
of her position. A merchant-captain is a personage; and 
then he brings home from his distant voyages extra- 
ordinary objects, strange gifts, and fancy things tliat 
cannot be found for gold or silver in any shop.” Each 
one of his returns is awaited and commented upon ; his 
departures are an event in the small village where his 
family resides. He is given commissions for the other 
side of the ocean. But when the Captain dies, his widow 


44 


PHILOMiiNE’s MARRIAGES. 


is of very little importance. She falls into the rank of 
neutral, unclassed beings, unless she has a large fortune ; 
for as every one knows, a large fortune is the best of 
gifts. 

How should she regain her vanished prestige At 
first the widow occupied herself anxiously in realizing the 
greatest amount of money and real estate possible, and, 
thanks to divers negotiations, made half-willingly and 
half by force, she obtained from her liusband^s family a 
much larger share than she deserved. But how could one 
refuse a woman who had had five children and so much 
sorrow? Was it not very natural to accord her a little 
well-being for her old age? Although Philom^ne had 
made her husband quarrel with all his own people from 
the first month of their marriage, the Crepin family acted 
honorably. The sole point on which it showed itself 
recalcitrant, was that of the recovering of the credits, and 
even there they were obliged to yield in the end, as the 
notary’s under-clerk had informed Madame Lavenel. 

Her fortune was thus assured, but it was a very paltry 
fortune — something about eighteen hundred francs income. 
A woman who had refined tastes like Philomene could 
not be satisfied with so little; besides, she had always 
dreamed of buying a piano. Not for herself, for she 
had never had leisure to learn music; in spite of the 
great desire to do so that she had manifested in the first 
days of her marriage, the Captain had only laughed at it, 
saying that when one was twenty-seven years old it was too 
late to become a virtuoso; she desired one for the persons 


PHILOMiiNE^S MARRIAGES. 


45 


wlio should come to see her, should those people know how 
to play on it. Now, with eighteen hundred francs income, 
one cannot buy a piano, even though it should be a kettle- 
drum. 

W ell, then, what remained ? At thirty-seven years of 
age life is not over. There are women who marry for the 
first time when they are thirty-seven and even thirty- 
eight years old ! They are old maids, it is true, but a 
widow of thirty-eight is a young widow, and can aspire to 
a young and well-made husband,^^ as they used to say 
formerly. 

The young and well-made husband was an agreeable 
perspective ; but far more brilliant still was what he 
might bring with him. The Captain’s grade became — 
as in former times Philomene’s aspirants — a ladder, no 
longer a modest ladder, a little nothing of a ladder, but a 
pedestal on which to mount up higher. 

Lavenel ! He was a fine aspirant, in truth ! However, 
grain and flour merchant though he was, Lavenel must 
not be rebuffed. The wise always reserve a pear for 
thirst; and then, who does not know that immutable 
decree that a woman who is courted attracts gallants, just 
as the light attracts moths? Philom^ne needed a jumping- 
jack at the end of a string, to show the entire world 
that she possessed the power of making the ambitious 
hearts of men who were seduced by her charms and 
her money, bound. Lavenel made a good jumping-jack. 
He was well enough known in the village and in the 
neighborhood for Philom^ne to feel flattered at hearing 


46 


PHILOMi:NE’s MARRIAGES. 


whispered: wants to marry the widow Cr^pin very 

much!’^ She thought his mother disagreeable enough, 
it is true; for first, the mother of the man she Avould 
marry would be naturally disagreeable to her; and then, 
Madame Lavenel was too proud, too silent, too far-seeing. 

Philom^ne only liked imbecile people around her ; she 
sovereignly despised them, but she did not need to esteem 
her neighbor. There are persons who cannot live with those 
whom they despise ; the widow Cr^pin, on the contrary, 
would have liked the earth to hold no others. It is so 
sweet to reign over those who surround one, and to say to 
one’s self, morning and evening, on opening and shutting 
one’s eyes to the light: ^^All those people are simpletons, 
and I lead them at my good pleasure ! ” Philom^ne was 
enjoying within herself the sweetness of this thought, when 
the letter-carrier knocked at her door. Thinking it was 
only the Channel Light-House^ she rose with an absent air, 
and took two steps. To her great surprise, the carrier 
laid the journal and two letters on the bureau. 


philomI:ne’s marriages. 


47 


CHAPTER IV, 


AN OLD SUITOR. 


WO letters ! Who could have written to her — unless 



-L it were her notary? But he had written her the 
day before, to announce to her the happy success of her 
negotiations. Philom^ne looked at the two letters for a 
long while, weighed them in her hand, smelt of them 
carefully, and at last began with the lighter and less 
elegant-looking one. 

It was from a Parisian debtor, who being informed 
that she was charged with the recovery of the credits of 
her husband^s heritage, wrote to announce to her that 
the state of his affairs would not permit him to pay her 
immediately; that, besides, her credit had not been proved 
in a proper manner, and that finally he should carry the 
affair before a council of referees. Philom^ne knit her 
eyebrows that were as white as those of an Albino, put 
the letter in the envelope, and the envelope in a drawer, 
and mentally sent the debtor to the devil. 

After that operation, the widow Cr^jjin turned to the 
second envelope, that remained on the corner of the 
bureau, and looked at it askantly. Was it also, this 
stupid letter, going to bring her some disagreeable news, 
and thus spoil the pleasure of such a beautiful day? This 
mysterious epistle had, however, rather a pleasing air: the 


48 


PHILOIvIENE S MAREIAGES. 


paper was handsome and heavy, and besides it did not 
come from Paris. After a short moment’s hesitation, 
Madame Cr^pin tore the envelope. 

Why do they put gum even into the most ignored 
corners of envelopes ? Why is it that one can never open 
them till after a deadly struggle ? Is it so necessary that 
manufacturers should condemn one to a bodily combat 
with that unseizable and soft enemy, which we call a 
sheet of lined paper — a combat, where one’s teeth are 
often, and as last resource, the instrument of slaughter? 
It is a question, which we lay before the jury for prizes 
at the Exposition, in order that it may decide whether the 
secrecy of correspondence is better guarded by such violent 
measures than by a simple seal. 

After having made every effort to open the letter she 
held in her hand, Philomene went in a very bad humor 
to her work-box, armed herself with a pair of scissors, 
and thrust in their points, and, as generally happens in 
such cases, she cut the sheet of paper in two, which at 
last she drew forth, glorious, but mutilated, from its 
protecting sheath. 

Then Madame Cr^pin sent to the devil — probably to 
keep the Parisian debtor company, who perhaps found it 
lonely there — the scissors’ maker, the envelope-seller, and 
the person who had written to her, after which she looked 
at the signature. 

Marie Verroy!” It was Marie, her cousin from 
Granville, who had written to her after five or six years 
of absolute silence ! Philomene thought she must desire 


philomI:ne's mariuages. 


49 


to borrow money of her, and put on her most severe 
expression, just as if the young woman were opposite to 
lier in person. Gradually her face smoothed itself out — 
as much as it was in its power to do, not any more 
though, nevertheless — and she ended in really smiling 
when she came to the signature. Marie remembered 
her, and recalled to her some pleasant days passed to- 
gether formerly, sometimes at Granville, sometimes at 
Dielette, when their parents made each other their an- 
nual visits, and asked if she could not find for her in 
her vicinity, one or two rooms for a few days. They 
were making an excursion along the coast, and would 
like to stop about a week at that pretty little miniature 
seaport. 

But certainly, certainly ! Philom^ne answered, out 
loud : the room is already found — the one I have on the 
first floor ; and you can stay here, my dear cousin, as long 
as it seems pleasant to you ! 

The joy and glory of having Charles Verroy in her 
house, a celebrated man, a novelist, whose works were 
displayed in the windows of booksellers at Cherbourg, at 
Coutances, and even elsewhere, made Philomene insensible 
to the expense. She immediately appreciated what this 
honor was going to cost her: she would be obliged to 
have two meals a day, with meat and vegetables, a few 
fowls — Philomene raised some in the small court-yard 
preceding her garden — a little fish; and the Captain^s 
wine would receive rather a rude assault. Yes ; but all 
Di6lette would be aware that she sheltered the celebrated 


60 


PHILOMi:XE’s MARRIAGES. 


Verroy, her cousin; and, then, a kindness is never lost, 
and that is why one should have a generous soul ! 

Philom^ne took a chair and drew towards her the Cap- 
tain’s travelling ink-stand ; it was a heavy machine, with 
a sj)ring cover, that went off sometimes by itself in the 
middle of the night, causing the large gray cat sleeping in 
the chimney-place, frights, that were as sudden as inexplic- 
able. Black streaks all around it proved unmistakably 
that rust had not always respected it ; however, Philora^ne 
experienced a worthy pleasure in writing from the Cap- 
tain’s ink-stand ; it was one of the things that gave her 
importance in her own eyes. 

She wrote on paper with a wide, black border — she had 
never been able to find a border sufficiently wide, and if 
one had listened to her, it would have been necessary to 
have manufactured some especially for her, with a thick- 
ness two fingers and a half wide; in her eyes, it was an 
elegance that constituted luxury, as understood by fashion- 
able people. She wrote, therefore, on very correct paper, 
and her legible, flowing writing soon covered the first 
page, not v/ithout a slight tendency towards climbing 
heavenward — but Philomene had such high aspirations ! 

^^My dear cousin,” wrote Madame Cr6pin, ^^your letter 
gave me great pleasure, proving to me that you had not 
forgotten me; nor have I either forgotten you — I have 
thought of you constantly. You know, doubtless, about 
my sorrows, and of my poor husband’s death ; Captain 
Crdpin left me in a very sad position ; in spite of that, 


philomI:xe’s marriages. 


61 


Here Philom^nc wrote the word poverty.’^ Then she 
stopped to reflect. It did not enter into her plans that 
they should think her poor; so she artistically efiliced the 
word poverty with the end of her little finger, which made 
on the fine paper bordered with black a very ugly, grayish 
spot ; but the widow’s csthetical ideas did not go so far as 
to blame this summary, infantine procedure of erasing a 
displeasing expression. Instead of ^^poverty,” she put 
modest circumstances,” and continued : 

^^Does not prevent me from offering you the little I 
possess. You, my dear Marie, and also my cousin Charles, 
will find in my home a very simple hospitality, but offered 
with a warm heart, and I hope you will find yourselves 
sufficiently pleased to remain a much longer time than 
you have at present the intention of doing.” 

This epistle finished, not without one or two little blots, 
that Madame Cr6pin made likewise disappear with the 
end of her finger, which gave them the appearance of long- 
haired comets, thrown out in shadow on a light sky, the 
widow re-read it, examining with care whether some mali- 
cious fault in spelling had not glided in among the difficult 
words ; there were, in truth, one or two, but they escaped 
her investigation, and the post carried them off the next 
day towards Granville, together with many others of like 
calibre. 

On the afternoon of this memorable day, Philom^ne 
went out to take the air. All that Di^lette held that was 
nice was walking on the beach, admiring one of the most 
beautiful feuusets that could be seen. The sea, blue as the 


52 


PHILOMENE^S MARRIAGES. 


Mediterranean, furled gently with pretty foam-like fringes 
over the impalpable fine sands ; the sun disappeared grad- 
ually in a light cloud of golden vapor, and the English 
islands were thrown out in the distance, violet colored, on 
the gilded, or as one might say, incandescent sea and sky : 
the white cliffs of Aurigny arose opposite and seemed quite 
near. The bay of Vauville, that incomparable bay, shut 
in by two magnificent promontories, has but one fault, 
which is a merit: that of being unknown. When the day 
comes that tourists shall have invaded it, it will be perfect 
and insupportable like all celebrated places. 

The inhabitants of Dielette are blase in regard to the 
magnificence of their sunsets, and we have never heard it 
said that the place has given birth to a painter. Talk after 
that of the preponderant influence of natural beauty on 
the artistic development of a people ! However the sweet- 
ness of the evening, the beauty of the spectacle had touched 
the most surly, and all — even a former mate, who, since 
his retirement, invariably turned his back to this sea, which 
he despised on account of its tranquil waters, after so many 
stormy campaigns — all looked towards the west, attracted 
in spite of themselves, by so much brilliancy and such an 
intense display of splendor. 

Madame Philom5ne went like the others on the beach, 
clad in the lilac insignias of her new situation, and stopped 
here and there to excliange a good-evening with different 
persons. 

It is proper to say here, that in spite of her ambition 
and its momentary realization, Madame Cr4pin had never 


PHILOMilNE’s MARRIAGES. 


63 


been admitted into what formed the nucleus of fashionable 
society in the maritime village. Her origin was not the 
cause of this restriction, but rather the dear lady^s haughty 
airs. When first married she desired to be first among 
the first, but to achieve that, she would have been obliged 
to have taken some one’s place. Now, the first held to 
their rank, wdiich was natural, and Philora^ne, who, with 
more patience, might have insinuated herself adroitly 
towards the gaol of her desires, found herself repulsed 
with that cold politeness that makes one feel so sensibly 
the distance between the great ones of this world, and 
simple mortals, like Philom^ne, you or I. 

Madame Aubier, who was in the best society, did not 
make herself so exclusive, and Madame Crepin had free 
access to her house. However, to her grand dinners she 
v/as not often invited ; only, when they found them- 
selves thirteen, in order to be the fourteenth; or else 
when some great personage declined, and they were only 
eleven. Tweh^e being such a sacred number that the 
mistress of a house cannot receive eleven guests ! To do so, 
the arrangement of the repast would be totally destroyed. 

Philomene stopped by Madame Aubier. Turning her 
back to the ocean — for all those who were walking there 
presented it their faces — she planted herself before the 
good lady. After the preliminary parley ings, she went 
straight to her point, full of glory, and puffed up with 
pride. 

I shall have some people staying with me the coming 
week,” said she, with an assured tone. 


54 


philom£:ne^8 marriages. 


Relations from the country ? ” asked Madame Aubier, 
innocently. 

Some Parisians ! 

This response was pronounced with the modesty of a 
collegian talking of his success with women. 

Two curious persons approached. Parisians ! I think 
even now not many are met with at Di^lette in the course 
of a year ; but, at that time, it was a thoroughly extraor- 
dinary event. Enchanted at the little effect she had pro- 
duced, Madame Cr^pin continued, without being able to 
contain the exuberance of her joy : 

^‘The celebrated novelist, Charles Verroy, my cousin, 
and his wife are to pass a week with me.’^ 

They opened their eyes wide. The name of Verroy had 
not penetrated very far into the bosom of this people, of 
whom the most part ignored Victor Hugo’s name, and 
never imagined that at that very moment the poet in 
his land of exile, opposite to them, was perhaps contem- 
plating France gilded by the rays of the setting sun. But 
Verroy was a celebrated novelist, Philoraene declared it — 
and that extraordinary man was coming to Dielette ! 
Some opened their eyes enormously; others, skeptical by 
nature, shrugged their shoulders, murmuring : There is 
Philom^ne bragging again ! ” 

Madame Aubier, who was always indulgent and always 
practical, received this astonishing news with calmness, and 
after a second’s meditation, 

‘‘Where will you lodge them, Philom^ne?” said she. 
“At my house, in the room I have on the first floor I 


philom^nf/s marriages. 55 

They are sensible people, my dear Madame Aiibier ; they 
are reasonable enough to understand I cannot offer them a 
palace, and to be contented with the little I possess.’^ 

Madame Crepin had at her service about a half dozen 
analogous phrases, all relating to her modest position ; she 
must have gleaned them from novels, which formed the 
foundation of her reading; for, related to a man of letters, 
she prided herself on being literary, and even imperturbably 
held, rightfully or wrongfully, criticising opinions on works 
that had had the unhappiness of displeasing her. These 
phrases were known to the entire village, from its having 
heard them a thousand times; and at that place in the 
conversation, two ladies maliciously pushed each other’s 
elbows in exchanging the quarter of a smile, but Madame 
Crepin did not see them. 

“ Madame Lavenel ! ” called Madame Aubier. 

The old woman who was passing turned towards the 
group her head, dressed in the Normand coiffe, which has 
now fallen into such desuetude, and is replaced by a small 
working woman’s cap, which is far from equalling it, 
either in picturesqueness or elegance ; but seeing Philom^ne 
Madame Lavenel approached slowly. 

‘^Here is our neighbor, who is going to throw her- 
self among great people,” said Madame Aubier, smiling 
faintly. Fancy ! she is going to receive some Paris- 
ians ! ” 

‘‘ She is mistress to receive whom she likes,” answered 
the old woman. 

Her cunning eye scrutinized the face of her whom some 


66 


philom^:ne’s marriages. 


day or other she thought to have as daughter-in-law; but 
Philom^ne swallowed her pride with so modest an air that 
she could draw no inference from her examination. Lav- 
enel joined his mother unaffectedly, and the neighbors 
continued to walk slowly along the road. Insensibly, 
Philom^ne and her admirer found themselves walking in 
front, at a short distance from the others. 

^^You are going to have some pleasure — distraction, 
Madame Cr^pin,^^ said the grain and flour merchant, 
dressed in his Sunday best — clad in a brown overcoat, 
and a high hat that did not embellish him. 

Madame Cr6pin sighed. 

I have not stolen a little distraction,’^ she answered ; 
after so much sorrow — ” 

Humph!” said Lavenel, from the depths of his low 
and rather thick voice. ! Madame Cr^pin, the best 

distraction always is the society of a good husband.” 

^^Ah ! that is very true,” moaned the cunning gossip* 
^^When my poor Cr6pin was alive, I knew no greater 
satisfaction than to have him with me.” 

^^The devil take all widows !” Lavenel thought; ‘Mhey 
have a rage for talking to one of their dead husbands!” 
Then he continued, out loud : 

Forget that sad past, Madame Crepin ; and then, in 
other times, when we were a girl and boy, we called 
each other by our first names; during your husband’s 
lifetime I lost the habit of so doing, but why should we 
not take it up again now, when it cannot shock any 
one?” 


philomI:ne’s aiareiages. 


57 


Madame Cr^pin not answering, her lover waxed bolder. 

Listen, Philom^ne,^^ said he — Philom^ne had passed 
his lips like a letter thrown in a letter-box, and he con- 
tinued, in a tenderer tone : 

It is no use to ruminate over what no longer exists — 
it is better to put something else in its place; you said no 
to me, but it is not no — it is perhaps. Well, you must say 
yes, and make yourself a pleasant existence. You told 
me your affairs were not arranged with the late Captain^s 
family 

The late Captain’s widow not replying, he finished his 
phrase : 

You must trust me with all that, and it will not last 
long ! ” 

That is to be seen, neighbor,” answered the lady of 
his thoughts. Perhaps they will decide to let me have 
what they owe me.” 

You wish to make me believe that,” thought Lavenel. 

Fortunately, the under-clerk has spoken ! Sly jade ! ” 
^^Philornene,” he went on, out loud, I have sought 
you for a long while. I asked you to marry me nearly 
twenty years ago ; you w^ould not have me — ” 

“ If you think you have grown handsomer since then,” 
thought the widow, you are greatly mistaken ! ” 

^^And I — I have always Avanted you ! ” ended the em- 
boldened bachelor. My mother has tormented me times 
enougli to make me marry. She has been to see brunettes 
and blondes enough, so as to induce me to marry them ; 
but I had only thought for you, bad one, and I did not 
4 


58 


PHILOMiiNE’s MARRIAGES. 


wish any one else. So long as the Captain lived, I 
resigned myself to it all, because, you see, it is not worth 
while to make one’s self unhappy about what one cannot 
obtain ; but when I saw you a widow, then I said to my 
mother that I did not wish any other wife than you, and 
she answered me: ‘Well, my boy, if it is Philom^ne you 
want, you must take her ! ’ ” 

“ On condition that she wishes it,” rectified the widow 
Cr^pin. 

“I will end by winning you,” the grain merchant 
answered, insidiously ; “ besides, I am not a match beneath 
you, as far as fortune goes. One makes a great deal by 
selling hay and bran ; I have fifty thousand francs in 
trade, and a pretty roan mare — ” 

“ I don’t like roan horses,” replied Philom^ne, with a 
dreamy air. 

Philom^ne was not wrong, for “roan” horses, spotted 
with brown and white, are not esteemed in the market on 
account of their coat. 

“We can change it, if it is only that,” said Lavenel, 
with a conciliatory air. 

“ There is something else,” answered the widow, 

“ What, then ? ” 

“ That I do not wish to marry again.” 

“ With no one?” 

“ With no one for the present, but I may change. When 
do you think you will have made your fortune, Lavenel?” 

“ Why, in ten years.” 

“ If you will give me your money,” added he, paren- 


PHILOM^iNE^S MAREIAGES. 


59 


thetically, in the profoundest depth of his mind. That is 
what is called a mental reservation; and thanks to this 
simple reservation, people who are in good favor with 
heaven can tell, without lying, the greatest falsehoods in 
the world. At least, that is what we are commanded to 
believe under pain of eternal fire. Perhaps Lavenel did 
not believe enormously in fire eternal ; but he had a blind 
faith in the utility of mental reservations in what concerns 
the affairs of this world. 

Well said Philom^ne, we will see, when you have 
made your fortune.’^ 

Lavenel was as prudent as an old cat ; yet he could not 
help bounding at this, and the incongruous gesture drew 
upon him the attention of several Dielettois, Avho were little 
accustomed to see him indulge in choregraphy in public. 
He calmed himself at once, and reassumed the peaceful 
pace of an honest tradesman taking a walk, thanks to 
Sunday’s repose. 

^^Ten years, Philom^ne! you are making fun of me! 
But, my dear, in ten years, I shall be fifty, and you — I am 
not rude enough to mention a woman’s age; but, the devil! 
we made our first communion together, and that’s not a 
few years ago ! Do you wish us to make people laugh?” 

^^Well, Lavenel!” said the widow, in a soft voice, 
^Mon’t let us marry! Ah! heavens! It is not I who 
ask it ! ” 

Bang ! ” said the flour merchant to himself, overcome 
by the falling-in of the edifice reared with such trouble 
since ten minutes. 


60 


PHILOM^NE^S MARRIAGES. 


^^Well! good-evening, then,^^ said he out loud, raising 
his hand to his hat. 

Will you not take me as far as my home?^^ asked the 
village Celiradne, with the most distant air in the world. 

Lavenel, who was stupefied, put his hat on his head 
again and docilely followed Philora^ne to her door. 

Every one was still on the jetty ; the dogs alone, who 
were lying on their masters^ thresholds, animated the de- 
serted place. 

‘^Will you allow me to kiss you?’^ politely said the 
flour merchant, removing his hat entirely. 

For all answer, Philomene tendered him, one after the 
other, her two cheeks, with their prominent cheek-bones 
deeply colored, and received on each a resounding kiss, that 
made two or three dogs, more nervous than the others, 
apparently, raise their heads. 

^^Good-evening, ncighbor,^^ said the widow, entering 
her house. 

Good-evening, neighbor,^’ answered Lavenel. He took 
two steps, and, having reflected, he thus expressed (always 
mentally) the result of his meditation: — am in for 
what I have said : may the devil take her 


PHILOMilNE’s MAERIAGES. 


61 


CHAPTER V. 

^^THE PARISIAN AND HER COUSIN. 

T he following Thursday, an odd carriage, a com- 
bination of jaunting-car, cabriolet and simple cart, 
deposited Monsieur and Madame Verroy before Madame 
Crepiifs house. The entire village, either visible on the 
square, or invisible behind window curtains, assisted at this 
debarcation. They saw with pleasure that ‘Hhe Parisian 
was much prettier than her cousin, and with regret that she 
wore a very simple black dress without trimmings, exactly 
like a person of the place. The simplicity of her attire 
and the small volume of her luggage determined the as- 
sistants to disperse, especially as it was necessary to relate 
the event to those who, less fortunate, had not been witness 
of it. 

Madame Verroy overthrew all established ideas in regard 
to feminine appearance in relation to character : for instance, 
a fat person is infallibly as gay as a greenfinch ; a dark, 
tall person, with regular features, is noble and serious, or 
else melancholy — or else withered and sour. Endeavor 
to affirm the contrary, and you will see how you will be 
treated by your readers. Marie Verroy, through a spirit 
of contradiction, doubtless, was tall and slender, a brunette, 
handsome rather than pretty, and with this, of an unfailing 
gayety. This gayety, that shone forth amidst all storms^ 


62 


philom^e’s maeriages. 


was her principal attraction, and, better than any one, her 
husband knew what merit Marie possessed, in offering to 
all, and continually, her kind face and infectious laugh. 

As soon as they had alighted from their extraordinary 
vehicle, the only one they had been able to find, and when 
this mysterious wheelbarrow had taken the road towards 
its home, with inclining ways that must have caused fright- 
ful fear to the passers-by, the newly arrived persons were 
conducted by Philom^ne into a small, white-washed room, 
furnished with a bed, a table and two chairs, but, in spite 
of this simplicity, very pleasing, thanks to some geraniums 
of a splendid red color that were placed on the window-sill. 

Behold, all I possess ! said Philom^ne, showing some 
ugly teeth that the brush rarely disturbed in their quiet- 
ude. I am poor, my friends, and can only offer you a 
poor abode.^^ 

But we will be very well off here,’’ exclaimed Marie, 
if only you will have the goodness to increase our ration 
of water, for what there is there will not be sufficient to 
wash our hands.” 

Madame Cr^pin looked with an astonished air at the 
miniature pitcher in the middle of its bowl, that was 
smaller still. What a singular fancy to ask for so much 
water ! Was it to drink ? She could offer them cider in 
preference, for hers was of a good growth — she did not fear 
to say so. 

No, my good friend,” answered Marie, laughing, it 
is not to drink, and cider would not be what we wish. A 
good, large jug of fresh water — that is what we need for 
the moment.” 


PHILOMi^KE’s MARRIAGES. 


63 


Philom^ne, who made her toilette by dipping the end 
of a towel in the pitcher, wdiich she afterwards passed 
lightly over her face, said to herself that her dear cousin 
was a trouble-maker ; . but without any other objection, 
she brought the jug that contained her daily supply. 

Thanks,’^ said the young woman to her; ‘^and now 
in five minutes we will be at your disposition.^^ 

Madame Crepin disappeared, and the husband and wife 
remaining alone, looked with the same impulse at the 
wash-stand; then, raising their eyes to each other, they 
burst out laughing together. 

Why do you laugh ? asked Marie. 

Charles pointed at the bowl and the jug, and, without 
saying a word, passed the corner of his pocket-handker- 
chief around his face. 

^^It is the usual procedure here, it seems — it is summary 
and not expensive.^^ 

Evil speaker ! his wife answered him ; you will do 
well not to make our cousin wait.” 

Especially as she has not an obliging look. She has 
not grown prettier since ten years.” 

What could you expect, my dear? Age and sorrows — 
Five minutes after they were, in eifect, seated at 
Madame Cr4pin^s table. It was a round table, or rather 
a stand, on which it was extremely dangerous to place any- 
thing except in the middle, for the lightest weight made 
it infallibly tip over. It is not known why this piece of 
furniture, that is unserviceable on account of its inconve- 
nience, should be in high favor among the small provincial 
boiirgeokie. 


64 


PHILOMi:NE’s MARIIIAGES. 


The dinner was good, even very good. Tlie defunct 
Captain’s wine made its appearance at dessert, with some 
cherries sent by Lavenel. This latter, not knowing from 
which side the wind would blow, wished to win over the 
travellers ; and, in truth, the fruit was duly praised, and 
the name of their owner passed Philom^ne’s lips. 

^‘Ah ! but your neighbor is gallant ! ” said Marie, return- 
ing to the cherries. 

Philom^ne lowered her eyes. Seeing she did not reply, 
Madame Verroy looked at her — the dear soul would have 
much liked to have blushed, but one does not blush at 
will; however, her embarrassment could not have failed 

to put out a blind man’s eyes,” as Charles said. 

^^Has he any intentions?” asked the latter, smiling. 

^^Ah ! cousin, after so many sorrows, you do not suppose 
that I could think — ” 

^^You! no, cousin; but this gentleman, perhaps, has 
not had sorrows; what is more natural, then, than that 
he should think of preparing some for himself?” 

Oh ! cousin ! ” 

Philom^ne put her handkerchief to her eyes. 

^^But certainly, cousin, one prepares sorrows for one’s 
self when one loves some one who does not care for one, 
and since you do not care for him — ” 

He is not what I want,” said Philom^ne, with a dig- 
nified air; ^^if I could ever think of marrying again, it 
would not be a grain merchant who could make me forget 
the Captain.” 

^^Ah ! it would not be a grain merchant ? ” repeated 


philomj^ne’s marriages. 


65 


Charles, incapable of containing the maliciousness that 
irritated him; ^Miis social position is not high enough 

His wife gave him a Avarning blow under the table, that 
nearly disturbed the equilibrium of the dessert; but Philo- 
m^ne just then was not disposed to understand his raillery. 

No,” said she ; if ever I should change my name, I 
owe it to my late husband not to descend below my present 
rank.” 

She rose to serve the coffee, and turned her back on 
them Avith so much dignity, that Charles followed her 
Avith a respectful look that Avas full of admiration. His 
Avife tried to look out of the AvindoAV, and to calm a fit of 
uncontrollable laughter that shook her inAvardly. Philo- 
m5ne returned Avith a AA^aiter loaded Avith cups. 

Certainly,” said she, continuing her thought, it Avould 
not be Avorth Avhile to have been the Avife of a merchant- 
captain, to Aved a simple tradesman ; and, then, besides, I 
ahvays detested trade — ” 

But,” insinuated Marie, Avho had regained her calmness 
someAA^hat, ^^if the tradesman pleased you?” 

^^Oh, Marie! after so many sorrows, can you believe 
that any other man than my husband could ever be any- 
thing to me? ” 

^^No, no, cousin!” Charles hastened to reply, we do 
not believe it ; Ave have misunderstood. Is he a handsome 
fellow, this gentleman of the cherries?” 

He is not bad ; but the Captain Avas much better. 
Lavenel has straight hair, and he AA^ears his beard under his 
chin, which is ugly.” 


66 


philomi^ne’s marriages. 


Charles contemplated Philom^ne with a growing admi- 
ration ; for all his wife pulled him by the sleeve, he did 
not take his eyes off her. 

Madame Yerroy succeeded in turning the conversation, 
and asked to take a walk. Philomene led them every- 
where that one could go on dry land, and brought them 
home so fatigued that they w’ent to bed without supper. 

Before closing his eyes, Yerroy could not help saying 
to his wife : 

^^Our cousin is superb! She will be married before 
three months ! She is a type ! 

Leave her alone,’^ answered good Marie, it is not 
nice to make fun of her; does she not do everything to 
please us?^^ 

But I am very well off here, and I thank her for her 
hospitality; only she will marry her flour merchant.’^ 

I do not believe it,’^ said Marie. 

1 don’t know ; but I do not believe she will marry 
him.” 

Well, then, she will marry another ! ” 

^^As for that, it is very possible.” 

^^She would do better not to pretend to the contrary.” 

Charles, my dear,” said his wife to him, ^^you think 
yourself at Paris ; don’t forget that we are in Nor- 
mandy!” 


PHIL0M^:NE’S MARRIAGES. 


67 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE MOSS-GROWN HOUSE. 

^ ^ T r O W lovely this beautiful country is! How it 

J — L knows how to make itself loved, and what regret 
one feels to leave it ! Say, Marie, would you like us to 
buy a little house here? 

^^All that you wish, Charles — one or several ! Are there 
any houses to sell about here, Philom^ne ? 

Philora^ne, who was walking in front of her friends, 
turned and stopped on the border of the narrow road. 

There are, and there are not ; those that are for sale 
are uninhabitable, and those that are habitable are not for 
sale.^^ 

^^Admirable ! said Charles, laughing ; but to let, 
cousin 

Philora^ne started off walking again : To let, no; there 
are none.” 

Then, Marie, we must give up this dream, or else go a 
little farther away.” 

^‘1 would have preferred to keep you near me,” said 
Philom^ne, in a tender tone. Here it is only five days 
that we have been together, and one would say so 
accustomed have I grown to you, that I had never 
been separated from you.” 

Good, Philom^ne ! ” said Marie, tapping her affection- 
ately on her shoulder. 


68 


philom^:ne’s marriages. 


It is a misfortune of my character ; I am too loving ; I 
attach myself too quickly, and so only prepare sorrows for 
myself.^^ 

^^Come, cousin, said Verroy, in a conciliatory tone, 
the world is not solely peopled with selfish and ungrateful 
persons.” 

I did not mean to say that,” said Philom^ne, in a 
voice full of tears; but, you see, I am so unattractive! 
Who could think of growing fond of me? I have no 
more relations — no friends — ” 

Well, and me?” 

^^Yes, my good Marie, you are right; I am wrong 
also to speak to you of my griefs. The unhappy should 
not afflict the happy ones of this world with their 
sorrows — ” 

Charles, who was slightly impatient, knocked off with 
his cane the flowering heads of a half-dozen shrubs planted 
along the roadside. This little emotional scene was not 
the first one he had witnessed; and Verroy, whose criti- 
cising sense had been sharpened by observation, had asked 
himself, since a few moments, whether Philora^ne were a 
good creature, whom provincial life and a particular apti- 
tude made naturally insupportable, or whether she were 
simply a pretty specimen of a false, good woman !” 

While he was thus guillotining the flowers on the cliff, 
Marie had gone ahead, and, taking Philora^ne’s arm, had 
lavished on her all the ordinary consolation that one offers 
in similar circumstances. Something astonished the young 
woman : she, who always so readily found kind words in 


PHILOMfeNE^S MARRIAGES. 


69 


her heart when brought in the presence of some wretched- 
ness and misfortune, found nothing to say but ordinary 
commonplaces. 

^^It is because we have not seen one another for so 
long^’^ she said to herself in explanation; ^^we love each 
other still, but we know one another no longer 

Silence came. Philom^ne replaced her handkerchief in 
her pocket, and the three pedestrians walked along on the 
same line, the path having grown broader. 

Suddenly, through one of those surprises so frequently 
occurring in that extraordinary country, a small valley 
opened on their left. 

In the valley ran a stream — a plaything of a stream ; a 
mathematician would have calculated that its mother — the 
spring — did not give out more than twenty litres an hour. 
But the pretty stream cared little for mathematicians and 
mathematics; it was not near being imprisoned in cast- 
iron tubes for public alimentation and salubrity. It ran 
along, playing innocently in the sunshine, stopping here 
and there in a thick tuft of cresses, between banks of 
mint, among enormous clusters of r^eds; and, after having 
fallen a dozen times over large stones, according to the 
common destiny of all that exists and advances in this 
world, it lost itself among the pebbles, and disappeared, 
drowned in the waves of the sea. 

A hundred yards farther on in the valley rose a cluster 
of trees. How do the branching beech-trees, that resem- 
ble miniature Banian fig-trees, manage to brave the wind? 
how do the ash-trees, that are sheltered by the beeches, 


70 


philomIine’s marriages. 


succeed in overtopping their protecting barrier? and how, 
sheltered by one and the other, do the apple-fields stretch 
out lazily over the gently undulating hill-tops? The 
farmers of the country know not the reason why, and 
■ savants, who study arboriculture in books, ignore it still 
more; but the beeches know, and that is why they bend 
their reddish-gray tops, whose foliage lasts so short a 
time under the wrath of the ocean tempests. Their 
branches, that are so closely entangled in each other, form 
an impenetrable refuge, and behind their double high and 
mossy hedge vegetation, that is bathed by the warm 
currents of the Gulf stream, displays itself in an almost 
insolent luxury. 

Amid the cluster of trees a small gray house sheltered 
itself, that was covered with superb lichens, that dotted 
themselves in great brilliant yellow spots on the old 
granite background ; above the front door, that was low 
and narrow, might be read, deeply graven in an enormous 
stone in characters three inches high; 

F. B. P. Joseph Hensey, 1757. 

An old moss-covered stone trough, a gray wooden fence, 
eaten away by lichens, two stone balls that had formerly 
crowned the stanchions of the front door, were the only 
^ornaments of the small grass-covered court-yanl. A path- 
way, trodden from the fence to the front door, proved, 
however, that the house was not entirely abandoned. 
Some large apple-trees stretched their branches over the 
neighboring wall as far as the middle of the court-yard, 


philomI:ne's marbiages. 


71 


and the stream crossed it, hardly kept within its bounds 
by a sort of stone gutter. 

Heavens ! how pretty it is exclaimed Marie. 

Charles took off his hat to the little house. 

salute thee!’^ said he to it; ^^thou art an honest 
dwelling-place — so honest that Faust would not have 
dared to come and seek Marguerite here. Honest people 
built thee, loved thee, and were born and died under 
thy humble thatched roof! Thou art the abode of my 
dreams, oh! small house, whoever your proprietor may 
be!^^ 

^^To whom does this treasure belong asked Marie. 

Philom^ne drew out an old worn key from under her 
skirts; she had two enormous and mysterious pockets — 
two abysses — from whence came forth, according to cir- 
cumstances, things the most unlikely to meet therein. 

It was my grandfather^s father who built it,^^ said she, 
as she fastened the rails securely. ^^You know, Marie, 
that your mother was a Miss Hensey, and that it is thus 
we are related.^’ 

Then/^ murmured Marie, this must be the first home 
of niy family.'' 

Charles approached his wife, and took her by the hand. 
These two, who, though worldly and Parisians to the 
marrow of their bones, did not disdain their humble 
origin. Verroy, though not born of a fisherman, but of 
a provincial notary, esteemed his wife of equally good 
origin as himself. Philomene had opened the door 
and preceded them. He kept Marie's hand in his, and 


72 


PHILOMi:NE^S MARRIAGES. 


they passed together over the threshold of the family 
home. 

The low room was lit by a window with small lozenge- 
shaped panes set in lead. An old-fashioned bedstead, 
closed on three sides, was built in to the end of the 
room ; and in a partition of the bed, an opening ex- 
posed to view a very small crossbarred window, that 
looked out on the back of the house; an ivy plant that 
ornamented the outside of the wall curtained it with its 
branches and foliage, and gave it the appearance of a 
church window. The curtains, of dark blue linen edged 
with fringe made of red and blue balls, dated probably 
from the foundation of the house. A chestnut-wood 
cupboard fastened in the wall; in the embrasure of the 
window, that was wainscoted to the ceiling, was a bench 
that made a refuge, square-shaped, as it approached 
the chimney-place; a table of the same wood, heavy and 
immovable, composed the rustic furniture of this dwelling, 
which is like a thousand others in that country. 

^‘It was there,^^ said Philom^ne, pointing to the bed, 
that our grandfather was born, Marie.^^ 

^^And where he died?^^ asked the young woman, in a 
low voice. 

No ; there,” said Madame Cr^pin, showing the corner 
of the chimney-place. 

Silence reigned for a moment in the' low room. The 
young people became very serious, and still holding each 
other’s hands, felt a world of thoughts stir their brains. 
Philom^ne opened the cupboard. 


philom^ine’s marriages. 


73 


The horrid beasts ! cried she. They have gnawed 
the last wooden spoon ! Fortunately, here is one in the 
inouse-trap.^^ 

Verroy and his wife started at her discordant voice. 
Silence, hardly disturbed by a word whispered in the ear, 
seeineci to them scarcely respectful enough for this family 
asylum; but Philomene went to and fro, moving every- 
thing, and making great floods of dust fly, that, because 
it was venerable, choked one^s throat none the less. 

^^To whom does this house belong asked Charles, for 
the second time. 

‘^Why, to me!^^ answered Madame Cr^pin, without 
stopping. Where can the large arm-chair be ? Ah ! 
I have taken it up-stairs ! There is not anything to sit 
down on here.^^ 

She slowly ascended the stairway, and soon returned, 
dragging after her, without any ceremony, an old straw 
arm-chair. The form and mouldings were in pure Louis 
XV. style. The straw had been changed very often ; but 
the last time it had been done was at least forty years ago, 
and it had become the color of new bronze. 

^AVhere does that chair come from?^^ asked Verroy. 

It is the one that w^as at the comer of the fire in the 
chimney-place. It was on this that they found grand- 
father dead, one June evening when they returned from 
harvesting. They took him his bowl of soup, and found 
he w^as cold. You cannot remember that, Marie ; you were 
too young. I do not even know whether you w’ere born ! 

Whilst talking, Philomene made the arm-chair turn 

5 


74 


philomene’s maeeiages. 


round on one of its back legs, and administered it a volley 
of strokes with her apron with the design of dusting it. 
The young people, without saying a word, sat down 
on the chestnut-wood bench, where Marie’s mother had 
climbed when she was very small, holding on to the table 
so as not to fall. 

There ! ” said Madame Cr^pin, when she had finished 
her dusting, ^^sit down !” 

Raising her eyes, she saw that her guests had not waited 
to do so, and then she sat down herself, without any cere- 
mony, in the grandfather’s arm-chair. 

It is horrid here,” said she, it is dirty ; one cannot 
drive the mice away, but I come here from time to time, 
to air it a little. I profited by your being here to do so, 
since you love old things so much.” 

Philornene,” said Marie, hardly raising her voice, ^^sell 
me this house.” 

A light, blue as steel, traversed the widow’s eyes; she 
had found a new vein in the mine of life ; she smiled and 
showed her teeth — which w^as a very imprudent thing to 
do, in any case. 

^^You don’t dream of such a thing!” she answered. 

What could one do with such a hovel?” 

^^For love of the family,” replied Madame Yerroy. 

But it is in the family, my dear ! ” 

beg you to do so, Philornene,” the young woman 
insisted. 

Cousin, it would give us so much pleasure!” added 
her husband. 


philomene’s marriages. 


75 


Come, now, my clear friends, this is a joke ! I have 
determined not to part with it.’^ 

Then, let us this house ; we were looking for some- 
thing to hire. This is what we want; we will have some 
furniture brought.^^ 

Hire it to you ? certainly not ; but if it pleases you, 
you can live here as long as you like. I am enchanted to 
be able to be agreeable to you.^^ 

^^But, Philom^ne,’^ Marie insisted, ^^you are not rich: 
allow us to pay you the rent of this house ; it is worth 
something.^^ 

It is insignificant ; I would prefer to give it to you, 
and give it most willingly. When wdll you come here?^^ 

Why,^^ said Marie, looking at Charles, we had the 
intention of passing the summer somewhere near Gran- 
ville; we would be better off here; nothing hinders us 
from installing ourselves here at once — that is to say, next 
week — 

To-morrow, if you choose ! or rather, no ! You prom- 
ised me a week and I will not give you grace of an hour; 
but on Thursday you will be free to come and catch the 
mice and drive away the spiders as much as your heart 
desires.’^ 

After having expressed their gratitude, the young people 
visited the house. A cellar was opposite to the room they 
were in, and on the first floor two bed-rooms, separated 
by a small cabinet, reproduced the same arrangement. 

^^It is Paradise declared Charles, when the inspection 
was over; ^Sve will spend a delightful summer here, and 
I am going to work like a steam-engine ! 


76 


philom^:ne^s marriages. 


^^How can one like an ugly hut like that!’^ exclaimed 
Philomene, putting the key in her pocket, while they 
crossed the court-yard on their way out. sad, iso- 

lated, dirty place — Stop, look at the weeds ! They 
grow everywhere! Ah I yoii will have a great deal to 
do to clean it up ! 

But, cousin, we will not clean it up ! 

^^As you like ! all the same, you have a strange taste ! 

Our cousin is not poetical,^^ observed Marie, in a low 
voice, while Philom^ne stopped to close the gate. 

^^Nor has she the bump of family veneration. She is 
an odd woman I Say, Marie, how happy we are going to 
be there ! 

The young woman clasped his arm without replying, 
and they set forth on the road to Di^lette. 


philomene’s marriages. 


77 


CHAPTER VII. 

coffee and conversation. 

I T was a pretty house in truth, and the young people 
were soon installed in it. The upper rooms were 
clean and gay ; a few mUres of light cretonne made in less 
than a week a comfortable abode of its hospitable walls. 

Madame Cr^pin, who was brisk and merry, went and 
came unceasingly on the road with a basket on her arm. 
She had procured a servant, found furniture, furnished 
linen — and in exchange for so many kind services could 
Monsieur and Madame Verroy do otherwise than ask her 
to dinner ? She brought a half-dozen eggs and passed the 
day at La Heuserie. What was more natural ? 

She presented her cousins to her neighbors and friends 
in the place ; besides, every one was very curious to see a 
celebrated man ! They found everywhere the most cordial 
welcome, according to the kind custom of the country, 
where hospitality and benevolence shown towards strangers 
are so natural, that they do not even consider them as vir- 
tues. One house alone showed a frowning face — LavenePs. 

The grain merchant had not witnessed without distrust 
the intrusion of this new element in Philom^ne’s life. At 
first, he, Lavenel, v/ished nothing to do with those people; 
what had they come to find in that country? Yv^as there not 
room enough elsewhere under the sun, that they had to 


78 PHILOM^:NE’s MARRIAGES. 

come to disturb his plans ? However, he could not turn liis 
back upon them, and he endeavored to give his face a less 
sullen expression when he saw that, without doubt, the 
Verroys had the intention of passing the summer by his 
native waters. 

Madame Lavenel, who was more wary, had not failed 
to reprimand her son from the beginning about his con- 
duct, and she presented her homages to Marie Verroy 
with the best grace in the world. She invited her to eat 
fruit in her garden, picked a basketful which she put on 
her arm as she was leaving; and as she was obliged to 
return the basket on her next visit, she then offered the 
young woman coffee. 

Between men, to offer coffee means to swallow one’s 
self, and to make one’s guests swallow a considerable 
quantity of small glasses of brandy ; among women the 
thing is of less consequence, sugar plays a greater r6le in 
it, and a little glass of liqueur replaces the libations of 
those gentlemen, not, however, without the coffee having 
received its traditional addition of alcohol, but only in 
the cup. Madame Lavenel did not disdain ^‘atear^^ in 
her coffee, and was much astonished to see Marie refuse 
the decanter; she had hoped that the gentle warmth of 
the beverage, added to the expansion of conversation, 
would permit her to question her perspective daughter-in- 
law’s cousin. A little disappointed, she did not abandon 
her resolution however, but confined herself to attacking 
things from a greater distance. 

Philom^ne did not assist at this little feast; Madame 


PIIIL0M^]NE’S MARRIAGES. 


79 


L/avenel had taken the precaution to choose a dav when 
she would be obliged to absent herself to go to the market 
at Pieux. So it was not necessary for the good dame 
to watch out of the window, to assure herself that their 
conversation would not be intruded upon. 

After the indispensable preliminaries, such as a visit to 
the garden, the making of a bouquet, and divers compli- 
ments and kindnesses, the two ladies went towards the 
low room adjoining the shop; and there, to Madame 
Verroy’s great surprise, who much desired to leave, ^4he 
cover was laid.’^ She had to sit and take some' coffee, 
that had been made in anticipation by Madame LaveneFs 
vigilant hands, and which had not improved by passing 
two hours set in a bowl of hot water. Marie Verroy 
performed her duty, however, and showed the best grace 
possible, while boring herself for a half-hour and more. 
She was not a little astonished to hear her amiable hostess 
question her cautiously about her childhood, her relations 
of friendship and parentage with Philomene and her family 
— in a word, to make her undergo a complete examiiiation. 
The questions follov/ed each other in a certain chronolo- 
gical order, which enabled Marie, who was, by the way, 
very shrewd and very sensible, to understand Madame 
Lavenel’s designs. 

She permitted herself, therefore, to be questioned, re- 
plying the exact truth to all her interrogations, but never 
anything more. At the end of a few moments, Madame 
Lavenel perceived that she had to do with a very strong 
party, and, from that moment, she had recourse to the 


80 


philomI:ne’s marriages. 


supreme resource of cunning people: she spoke quite 
frankly. 

You doubtless know, my dear lady/^ said she to her, 
that I would not have taken the liberty of speaking to 
you about your family, if I had not been moved by feel- 
ings stronger than myself.^^ (Here she heaved a sigh.) 
^^The desire of my heart — I can surely tell it to you — has 
always been to have Madame Cr^pin for my daughter-in- 
law. My poor boy has always loved her, has never loved 
any one but herself, and I would have liked, before my 
death, to see my son settled as he wished. Ah ! it is very 
cruel for a mother to depart from this world leaving her 
children all alone, isolated and without friendship 

The good dame’s heart seemed to swell with bitterness; 
Marie Verroy felt obliged to say some kind words to her. 

^^You are still young, Madame Lavenel; you have 
plenty of time to think about all that.” 

Yo ; you see, my dear lady, one does not know who 
will live, or who will die ! I should have liked to have 
seen my son married. And since he wishes no one else 
but Philom^ne, when she became a widow, and he made 
his desire known to me, I said to him: ^ Well, my boy! if 
it is Philom^ne you want, you must take her ! 

That was very wise on your part,” said Marie. 

Yes, my dear lady, it was a sacrifice; because, Philo- 
m5ne, you see, is not as young nor as rich as might be 
the woman to whom my son could aspire; but I am will- 
ing to accept everything so as to see him happy I” 

Marie thought that to call her daughter-in-law old and 


philomI:ne’s marriages. 


81 


poor was nofc a very amiable way in which to accept her. 
Bat one must take people as they are^ and she never 
breathed a word. 

There is an obstacle/’ Madame Lavenel said at last, 
seeing her visitor would not come to her aid. 

What is it?”^ 

Philomene does not wish to marry again ! ” 

It is very unfortunate that your son should have set 
his choice exactly on a woman who does not wish to 
marry again/’ said Marie, endeavoring to assume a com- 
miserating look that did not come of itself. 

Oh ! yes ! as to that, yes. But I have thought in 
my small mind, for I am only a poor ignorant woman, 
Madame Verroy — not like yourself, who know so many 
things — I have thought, that if Philomene were well 
advised, she might perhaps change her mind.” 

Do you think so ? ” asked Marie, in a very dubitative 
tone. 

am sure of it. That poor Philomene loves her 
family too much ! It is through the excess of her good 
heart. She told me the other day that if she married 
again, it would be very horrid on her part, for she would 
thus deprive of their inheritance those of her family v/ho 
had a right to it.” 

Upon my word !” exclaimed Madame Verroy; ^Hhat 
is a very extraordinary idea.” 

^Mt is as I tell you,” said Madame Lavenel, who really 
did not lie, for two days before she had held this strange 
conversation with her. 


82 philomene’s marriages. 

What madness ! It is worse than Don Quixote ! 
the young woman could not help saying, laughingly. 
^^And who, then, may these heirs be for whom Madame 
Crepin wishes to make a vow of eternal widowhood ? 

‘^But — I spoke to you just now of your family — I do 
not see any one else but yourself ! 

exclaimed Madame Verroy, with so much 
vivacity that she nearly upset her coffee. Why 

she is hardly ten years older than I ara!^^ 

She says she is ill, that she is sure not to live long, 
and she does not wish to despoil you of what is coming to 
you.’' 

^^But, Madame Lavenel,” exclaimed Marie, a little 
nervous at seeing this delicate question agitated with so 
little ceremony, there are other relations besides myself, 
I am sure ! And, then, there is her husband’s family ! 
And after all, one is quite free to give one’s fortune to 
whom one likes ! ” 

It is yourself to whom she wishes to give it ! ” 
do not want it! ” said Marie, energetically. You 
can tell her I do not want it ! It is dreadful to think a 
woman so near my own age should think of making me 
her heir. No, I do not wish to hear it spoken of! ” 

^^You will not prevent her doing it, if it is her idea!” 
insisted Madame Lavenel. 

She would do a great deal better to marry again,” 
continued Marie, following her thought. She thinks of 
a proximate death because she is lonely and sad, but in 
the bosom of a new home she would soon forget her 
funereal thoughts.” 


philomene’s marriages. 


83 


! yes ! said Madame Lavenel, enchanted to see 
her bait had taken ; you should tell her so ! But do 
not mention me, you understand ! She forbade me whis- 
pering a word to you about it ; she would be angry, and 
that would not advance my son^s affairs.^^ 

That is very true ! I will advise marriage in general 
to her ! 

Madame Lavenel remained silent a moment. 

The first comer is not what Philomene wishes. With- 
out being reprehensible in anything, she has her little 
fancies, and her temper is not always good. What would 
suit her would be a man not too young, for she is thirty- 
eight years old ; steady, good, not liking drink — in a word, 
an honest man — 

Take my bear ! thought Marie. She added out loud : 

Like your son, is it not so, Madame Lavenel ? Every 
one preaches up his own saint, and if Monsieur Lavenel 
has loved Philomene since so long a time, he knows the 
defects she may have, and he is determined to pass over 
them!^^ 

^^How well you talk ! said Madame Lavenel, full of 
admiration. ^^One sees very well that you have read 
books ; as for me, I am only a poor, good, countrywoman, 
and I do not know how to say what I think, but I know 
very well that you are an honest lady, and very nice for 
all that! 

The two women separated, and Madame Lavenel, as 
she was arranging her coJffee-cups, said to herself she had 
not lost her day. 


84 


PHIL0M^:^"E’S MARRIAGES. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


marie's invitatioit. 


"rTT^HEN Charles Verroy heard of Madame Cr4pin’s 
V V intentions, he was at first in a very bad humor, 
am siire/^ said he, to his wife, ^Hhat that great 
simpleton of a Philornene told her of it, expressly that it 
might be repeated to us ! 

Oh ! my dear, can you think it — 

I am sure of it ! The intention may be good on her 
part, but one does not tell of such things : one does 
them ! It shows a want of tact that I did not think her 
capable of.^^ 

A little saddened, for she really loved her cousin, 
the young woman determined to take Philornene aside, 
and give her some good advice necessitated by her lonely 
position. 

Why do you not marry again she said to her one 
afternoon, while Charles, stretched out on a mat, was 
trying to read his journal by the last gleams of daylight. 
They were beyond hearing distance, and descended the 
road that led to the sea. 

^^After all I have suffered ! replied Philornene; ^^my 
poor husband was so good, so affectionate, that I shall 
never find another like him 

‘^You might not find his like,” said Marie, but you 


philom^:ne’s marriages. 


85 


could find another who did not resemble him at all, but 
whom you could love just the same. Life is so long when 
one is all alone 

Philomene put on a sad face, which gave her a still 
more morose appearance than ordinarily. 

^^Yes, life is long! If only my husbarid^s family was 
nice to me. But I have no one on whom I can count, no 
one who will even render me a service in case of need ! 

We are here said Marie, gently. 

^^Yes, you I so I love no one but you! When one 
thinks that since my husband’s death, no one of his family 
has entered my doors ! They look upon me as dead, I 
presume.” 

‘^However, did they not show you some favors in 
regard to the inheritance?” 

‘‘This much, that the Captain had some debts, and I 
paid them,” replied Philomene, sourly. “If, after that, 
they left me the recovery of the credits, it was only just.” 

“Without doubt, without doubt! And they have not 
been nice to you ?” 

Philomene began a long litany of complaints against 
her mother-in-law, her brother-in-law, her three sisters- 
in-law, their uncles, aunts, cousins, nephews, etc., etc. All 
of them had always disgraced and detested her; all wished 
her evil, and she returned it to them — well, not in wishing 
them evil, for, thank God, she had never wished that to 
anybody — but she did not love them at all, and would 
never seek to do them pleasure, for it would be only losing 
her trouble. 


86 


piiilomene’s makriages. 


When slie had finished, and stopped to catch her breath, 
Marie answered her, quietly : 

Why do you not marry? That would be the best way 
to punish them for their bad acts/^ 

So they will not have my inheritance ? Be easy ; they 
will not have it. They turn around it, but they will be 
nicely caught ! It is not much, and a poor widow has a 
great deal of trouble to live on it, but the little there is 
will pass under their noses ! 

Marie kept silence. An idea that had already come to 
her ran in her brain. 

Why do you not put your fortune in a life-interest?’^ 
said she to her ; that would make you sure of leaving 
nothing to any one, and would permit you to live more at 
your ease.” 

Philomene did not answer. 

If you wished to marry again,” continued the young 
woman, ^^that would be another thing; one is very glad to 
leave something to one’s children ; but, since you are 
resolved to remain a widow — ” 

‘^No,” said Madame Crepin, brusquely; ^^I do not 
want to rid myself of my fortune. Do you wish me to 
tell you something ? It is yourself who will have it ! ” 
Marie shook her head. 

^^You are too young,” said she, ^^to think of that. Do 
not speak of it again, I beg of you ! ” 

^^You shall have it,” insisted Philomene. ^^You are the 
only one who has shown me any affection ; you and your 
husband have alone thought of coming to see me in my 


PHILOM^INE^S MAEEIAGES. 


87 


solitude. You have not disdained my poverty; it is just 
that you should be re warded. 

She threw herself on Madame Verroy’s neck, weeping, 
and clasped her for a long while on her heart. Marie, 
touched by her sadness, consoled her as best she knew 
how, and with kind words succeeded in stopping her 
effusion and her tears. 

I am nervous, Madame Cr^pin said, at last, when 
she had recovered herself a little. It is the retired life I 
lead : never any pleasures, never any distractions, it is 
not very astonishing that I should be easily overcome. 
Ah! my good Marie! how happy you are! You live 
amid pleasures, you have a thousand resources of which I 
have not even an idea.’^ 

Come and see us at Paris,’^ said Marie. Come and 
pass two weeks with us. We have an apartment larger 
than is necessary. You will not disturb us in any way. 
Leave here with us in the first days of autumn 

‘‘You do not think of such a thing! I am not rich 
enough to give myself such costly fancies ! 

“ Tiie journey is not such a great affair,’^ remarked 
Madame Verroy. 

“Not for you; but for me it is a very great expense. 
You cannot imagine the little I possess 

“ Well,’^ said Marie, grown a little impatient, “you will 
make the voyage at my expense. You would not accept 
anything for the rent of your house. I have certainly the 
right to offer you this much.^^ 

“You are too good, my dear friend. I thank you, 
and— 


88 


philomene’s makeiages. 


You accept?’^ 

I refuse/^ 

away, tlien!^^ exclaimed Marie. ^^And don’t come 
to talk to me about your want of distractions and your 
loneliness, for I will pity you no more.” 

Philomene took up the thread of her discourse — she 
always had a bobbin of it ready — and her lamentations 
lasted until when Charles, not being able to see any more, 
came to join them. 

I have invited her to come and see us at Paris,” said 
his wife to him, seeing him approach. 

You did well.” 

But she does not wish to do so.” 

‘^She is wrong,” the young man answered phlegmati- 
cally. You refuse, I fancy, cousin, that we may urge you 
more warmly.” 

Philomene was rather afraid of her cousin, whose calm- 
ness and reserved prudence embarrassed her, not knowing 
wdiat was underneath it. She laughed, and showed her 
yellow teeth. 

I assure you, cousin, it is not to make myself urged,” 
said she. 

‘^Then you will come — it is only a question of time.” 

Madame Crepin took leave of the young people, and 
returned to her home, asking herself whether Monsieur 
Verroy, Parisian as he was, would not be cleverer than 
herself Philomene Crepin. 


philomene’s mareiages. 


89 


CHAPTER IX. 


VIEGIISriE AND HER WEDDING STOCKINGS. 

T began to rain. Every one kn^ws that in Normandy 



the rain is one’s worst enemy. Everywhere else one 
can manage to support it, and a few days of rain does not 
give the blues; but, in this happy country, the merits of 
the land turn into faults — the pretty valleys, shadowed by 
beautiful trees, and carpeted with verdure, become, accord- 
ing to their greater or less declivity, either sloughs or tor- 
rents, and the elevated places, from whence the landscape 
is set forth in so much variety, are veritable pillories, 
whence the unwary pedestrian receives from all sides the 
disagreeable effects of a fierce drizzle, that penetrates under 
his most inmost garments and congeals his blood in his 
veins. After three or four days of this rule, the walls leak, 
the roofs weep into the garrets, and melancholy possesses 
itself of the prey that the bad weather has prepared for it. 

It had rained for a week, and Charles began to grow 
nervous. His wife endeavored to distract him with every 
fancy of her original and mercurial spirit ; but all her 
good will found itself powerless against the invading 
sadness of gray days and dark nights, when the noise of 
drops of rain hurrying one after the other was unceasingly 
heard. 

Suppose we invite some one to come and take part in 


6 


90 


philomI:xe’s marriages. 


our misery?^’ said Marie one evening, when Charles was 
yawning enough to make himself nauseated. 

^^Take part in it! paddle in it, do you mean? What 
mortal could there be, audacious enough to risk his life in 
crossing the oceans of mud that separate us from human 
species ? ” 

I don’t know. Have we not some friend taking his 
holiday, who would be willing to alleviate our dulness?” 

They are all sportsmen,” answered Charles, yawning 
dreadfully. ^^In three months we could have more of 
them than we would wish ; but for the present — ” 

Another yawn cut his speech short. Marie, caught by 
the infection, followed his example, and when they had 
finished, their eyes full of involuntary tears, they looked 
at each other, and burst out laughing. 

^^This is Vvell! ” said Charles, wiping his eyes; ^Mn 
truth, it is time to resort to friendship ; especially as very 
probably, when friendship will have received our letter, it 
will have stopped raining, and we shall have a little fine 
'weather. Who must we immolate?” 

The young people passed in review their friends, of all 
ages and conditions, and chose two or three amongst them, 
to whom they sent a copy of the same letter, under the 
form of the most despairing appeal. 

While they were awaiting their answers, a letter reached 
them from Paris. It had travelled for a week, and had 
followed them in all their stopping-places so faithfully, 
that the envelope, v^^hich was all spotted with postmarks, 
and covered with addresses on every side, barely held 


PHILOM]^NE’s markiages. 


91 


white space enough on which to write the name of their 
present abode. 

One move more/^ said Charles, and we should never 
have received it. I cannot even recognize the handwriting 
of the first address.^^ 

Philom^ne, who happened to be there, began to blow 
the fire in the great chimney-place, as if to take the pro- 
tecting gods of the hearth as witness that she did not feel 
the slightest curiosity, during which time Charles opened 
the envelope and read its contents. 

‘^Ah ! cried he, with the happy air of a man who sees 
his release dawn. ^^Ah ! Marie, here is a real friend ! 
It is from Masson, who asks where we are ; he has ob- 
tained a month’s leave of absence, and wishes to pass it 
with us.’^ 

What a pity !’’ said Marie, as she read over the letter. 

Here is already a v/eek lost ! 

^^Let us write at once, at once,” sang Charles, running 
toward the table; ^^or, better, how can one send a des- 
patch from here, cousin ?” 

So as to prove well that she was not listening, Philo- 
m^ne made him repeat the question. 

It was not easy to send a despatch ; one had to walk 
a half-dozen IcilomUres on foot, and as many returning; 
the post was better. And were they then in such a hurry 
to see their friend that they were afraid of losing one 
day?” 

There’s Philom^ne becoming jealous,” cried Marie, 
laughing. 


92 


philomene’s marriages. 


yes, I am jealous!’^ Philomene acknowledged, 
with the most touching expression. ^^After years of soli- 
tude and abandonment, I have found some friends, and 
they wish to take them from me! I don’t love your 
Monsieur Masson at all — is it Masson you call him?” 

^^You will love him better when you know him, for 
he is the best fellow in the world I And then, don’t 
trouble us with your jealousy ! Shall we not love you as 
much when he is here? We have known him since a 
long while, and that has not prevented our loving you, 
simpleton ! ” 

Philomene thanked her cousin for this unaffected speech 
by a look full of gratitude, and Charles composed a letter, 
in which the explanations on the means to be employed 
for reaching La Heuserie took up no less than two entire 
pages ; after which they awaited his coming. 

Madame Crepin was thoughtful and preoccupied, and 
during the dinner, which took place at twelve o’clock, 
according to the custom of the place, she ate little, and 
crumbled up a great deal of bread on the table by 
the side of her plate, where she soon had a little heap 
of crumbs, not — it must be confessed — of immaculate 
whiteness. 

^^What is the matter with you? You eat nothing!” 
observed her cousin, when they had reached the dessert. 

do not like cream,” answered Philomene; ‘^it does 
not agree with me.” 

But there have been other things besides cream, and 
you have eaten nothing ! ” 


PHILOMfiXE’S MARRIAGES. 


93 


Philom^ne smiled with a heart-breaking smile. 

What would you ? said she. When I think over 
my sorrows, it takes my appetite entirely away.^^ 

Charles, who had unfolded his journal while awaiting 
his coffee, whistled in a little, low, modulated manner that 
was extremely harmonious. His wife gave him a reproach- 
ful look, that was quite thrown away, for he continued his 
little tune in the most innocent fashion. 

Why,^^ said Marie, kindly, think any more of those 
disagreeable things, that are passed and finished long ago ? 
You must only think of the future.^^ 

After a short silence, she added : 

What has become of the Lavenels ? 

Another silerfce ensued. Madame Cr^pin seemed in 
no hurry to reply. Charles’ presence and music an- 
noyed her, evidently; Madame Verroy understood it, 
and hastened to fill the cups with the hot and aromatic 
coffee. 

^AVell, cousin,” said Verroy, those good Lavenels?” 

They are very well, cousin, I thank you, for them.” 

The coffee partaken of, Marie led Philom^ne off to her 
room. 

Tell me, cousin,” said she to her, is there anything 
the matter ? ” 

Lavenel annoys me,” replied the questioned cousin in 
a cross tone. 

Has he spoken to you again of his intentions?” 

^^Yes.” 

^^When?” 


94 


philom^:ne’s marbiages. 


Last evenlng.^^ 

Well, he annoys me !” 

And did yon tell him so?^^ 

Certainly/^ 

What did he answer?’^ 

“ That it was indifferent to him and that he wanted me 
all the same ! 

There is a gentleman who keeps to his intentions,” 
replied Marie, who could not prevent herself from laughing. 
^‘He will have a patent for fidelity at the next Congress, 
never doubt it! So, then, the affair is still pending?” 

Philom^ne grumbled a sort of acquiescence. 

What displeased me,” said she, was that he tried to 
kiss me, and I did not like it; and I told him so. I don’t 
think he will try it again.” 

You understand how to repel your lovers,” said Marie, 
as she was leaving the room. You will end in marrying 
him, my good friend ; one does not escape one’s destiny ! ” 

Marry him I a grain merchant ! I, who detest trade ! 
Ah ! you do not know my character ! ” said the widow, 
bitterly. 

^^As you will,” the young woman hastened to say; 
^^only don’t eat me up I” 

They talked of other things, and the day ended without 
any accident. The next day in the afternoon, the weather 
having cleared a little, Marie proposed to Verroy that 
they should return Philomene’s visit, w^ho had not been 
there since. Some different small purchases to be made 


PHILOMi:NE’s MAREIAGES. 


95 


determined them to improve the first calm day, and they 
started forth through the yet undried paths, a little basket 
in their hands, as delighted at their freak as schoolboys in 
holiday time. 

As they came out on the road, they perceived Lavenel 
coming towards them. The latter did not see them, and 
as he was walking he addressed the most vehement apos- 
trophes to the problematical sun, the absent stars, and 
doubtless the angels charged with watching over him, 
manifested by passionate gestures of his head and arms. 
A triumphant smile lighted up his countenance, and he 
addressed to himself, in a modulated, suave voice, compli- 
ments that our friends could not hear, but which, to judge 
from the expression of his face, had nothing discouraging 
in them. 

He is mad ! said Marie, holding herself a little closer 
to her husband. 

should think rather that he is drunk; but he walks 
straightly, and if his brain is impaired, his legs are solid.^^ 

Lavenel, who was now only ten paces from them, per- 
ceived them, and trembled like a man awakened sud- 
denly from a dream, drew his hat on his head more firmly, 
and composed his face. As they passed each other, he 
addressed them a good-morning in a loud voice, and 
with a smile in which shone all the joy of success, went 
on without stopping. 

^^What a strange face he wears to-day!’’ said Marie; 
^^at any rate, he has the air of being satisfied with his 
fate.” 


96 


philomI:ne’s marriages. 


''I would stake muck/' said Charles, ''that he has 
inherited something — " 

"Or that Philomdne has accepted him/' interrupted his 
wife, hastily. 

They took a hundred steps more, and before them, 
crossing the sands, in a turning of the road which per- 
mitted them to see at some distance, they perceived Philo- 
m^ne coming, with a basket on her arm, her head in 
advance, walking with a brisk step, and who was, after her 
fashion, another incarnation of joy. 

It is singular, said Marie. " Look, Charles, what an 
enchanted air she has ! " 

Madame Cr^pin presented her profile, which did not 
enhance her looks, and a full smile played around her 
large mouth; with her forehead advancing, carried a little 
low down, as was her wont, she looked as though she 
wished to batter in the door of life. She, too, was talking 
to herself in a low voice, and the triumph of a malignant 
smile illuminated her yellow face, from time to time, with 
a singular light. 

Mephisto ! said Charles, in a very low voice. "Let 
us sit down here, Marie; here is a protecting bush, that 
will enable us to hear the mysterious conversation she is 
holding with herself" 


Before his wife had had time to protest, he let himself 
fall on the ground, and, drawing Marie by her skirts, he 
obliged her to do the same. 

Tes, yes; that will make them all enraged, you can 
count on it ! the lovely owl ! " 


PHILOMENE^S MAEEIAGES. 


97 


Suddenly she perceived the couple sitting on the very 
damp turf, and stopped short, as though one had drawn 
hard on her rein. 

‘‘ What are you doing there ? said she, brusquely, and 
not too politely. 

We were going to see yon, and as you were coming 
towards us we stopped here to wait,^^ replied Charles in 
the same tone and with the same manner. 

Philomene changed her manner immediately. 

You will catch cold,^^ said she, sweetly; ^Hhe grass is 
wet. Come to my house, since you were on your way 
there.’^ 

The three pedestrians regained the road leading towards 
Di Alette. 

^^We have just met Lavenel,’^ said Charles, incapable 
of restraining his maliciousness. Does he own any 
property about here?^^ 

Yo,’^ said Philomene, anxiously. ^^Why?^^ 

Because he had the look of a proprietor who has just 
acquired something.^^ 

‘^He, perhaps, wishes to buy,’^ replied the widow; and 
her face darkened. 

^^Is this yours, Philomene — this corner of land that 
reaches from La Heuserie to the sea?^^ 

Yes, cousin. 

This response issued with so much difficulty from 
Madame Crepin’s throat, that Marie shook Charles^ 
arm slightly, to warn him not to continue^ and he kept 
silence; while his eyes, beaming with maliciousness, 


98 


PHIL0M^:NE’S MAERIAGES. 


examined the widow with the satisfaction of a collector 
who has found a handsome medal. 

The conversation languished ; a short visit at Philo- 
mfene’s house did not revive it, and after a few minutes 
the husband and wife left to make their purchases. 

They had hardly crossed the threshold of the door when 
Madame Aubier appeared on hers, with a cap trimmed 
wdth ruches, her w^hite foulard neck-handkerchief, and 
her large blooming face. Although it w^as mentioned in 
no guide-book whatever, the spectacle of this good, 
smiling humor was certainly the most rejoicing thing 
that Di^lette offered to tourists’ eyes. Charles and his 
wife could not help contemplating it with a smile, and 
Madame Aubier took tw^o steps towards them. 

^^Come in,” said she to them; ^^come in! I have not 
seen you for two weeks.” 

It is not our fault, Madame Aubier, but that of the 
rain I ” replied Charles, accepting the invitation. ^^Your 
country is lovely, but the roads are very bad.” 

One cannot have everything,” the good lady replied, 
philosophically, as she introduced them into her small 
parlor, furnished in old-fashioned style, and full of 
flowers. Near the window was a very pretty young girl, 
about twenty years of age, knitting, with needles as fine 
as a hair, a small stocking wdth Scotch thread, whose 
net-work resembled a spider’s- web. 

^^And there is my goddaughter, Virginie, who is knit- 
ting her wedding stockings,” said Madame Aubier, as she 
offered them chairs. 


PniLOMilNE’s MARRIAGES. 


99 


aunt!^^ said Virginie, blushing and smiling; and 
a hundred times more pretty in her sweet confusion. 

Is Mademoiselle going to be married asked Charles, 
with his habitual pleasant grace. 

^^Why, no! Monsieur, my godmother is joking,’’ replied 
the young girl, continuing to smile and blush in the most 
charming, natural way. 

^^She will marry some time or other. Monsieur Verroy; 
and in the shortest time possible, never doubt! These 
young girls are always in such a hurry to put on the yoke 
of misery!” 

Virginie understood joking well ; half a peasant, half a 
young lady, she possessed the charms of a village maiden, 
and the grace of a citadine, so she immediately won 
Monsieur and Madame Verroy ’s heart. The good lady, 
enchanted at her goddaughter’s success with such intelli- 
gent and illustrious persons, could not contain herself for 
joy, and, in the overflowing of her excellent heart, knew 
not what to offer them; they were obliged to stop her, 
or else she would have had all the contents of her 
cellar brought up, and all her provisions in the garret 
brought down. 

Whom have you seen to-day?” asked she, when her 
effervescence was a little calmed — thanks to the consump- 
tion of a few biscuits and a finger’s depth of wine. 

Nobody much ; only Philom^ne ! ” 

^^And Lavenel,” added Charles. ^^Lavenel, whom we 
met gesticulating like a Chappe telegraph, and prophesy- 
ing like Ezekiel.” 


100 


philom^:ne’s maeeiages. 


^^Lavenel? Where asked Madame Aubier, eagerly. 

On the road to our house.^^ 

The good dame’s visage became as round as a full moon, 
and all her stout person seemed to dissolve in a little, mute, 
infectious laugh. 

Virginie,” said she afterwards, ^^go and get us some 
pears, on the second shelf to the left ; they are last year’s 
pears — a wonderful preservation; you will tell me how 
good they are ! ” 

Madame Aubier, I protest ! ” exclaimed Charles. It 
is not permitted to make people eat like this — and at 
mid-day, too ! ” 

Madame Aubier winked her eye. 

^^Go, my little Virgime,” said she. The young girl 
went out, and immediately Madame Aubier leaned 
confidentially towards her visitors. 

You met Lavenel?” 

^^Yes, Madame; and he was revolving his arras like 
a windmill — enough to dislodge all the stars in the 
firmament.” 

^^And, later, Philom^ne?” 

^^Yes.” 

How did she look ?” 

^^She was laughing all by herself, and had the look of 
a cat who has just caught a mouse.” 

Oh, Charles ! ” said Marie. 

Yes, my dear friend — but not to eat it !” 

Well! ’’said Madame Aubier, approaching the pair, 

am going to tell you a piece of news. Philom^ne 


philomene’s marriages. 101 

dined lately at Madame LaveneFs, and they eat a 
goose ! 

^^It was cannibalism — Charles began; but he 
restrained himself. 

goose at this season ? asked Marie. 

Oh ! it was an extraordinary goose — a miraculous 
goose! It was the only one that survived an autumn 
brood. They despaired of bringing it up, and then, since 
Easter, it began to grow fat; it became magnificent. 
They exhibited it as a curiosity 

‘^And Madame Lavenel decided to sacrifice that 
extraordinary animal asked Charles, with a very 
serious air. 

‘^Yes, Monsieur; but in the greatest mystery ! For 
fear that the neighbors should know it, Madame Lavenel 
plucked the goose in her garden behind her house, where 
she could be seen from no side. But — Here the good 
dame was taken with a fit of laughter that made her 
double chin tremble. Our gardens join ; the wind arose 
and blew away the feathers, and all Di6lette found itself 
covered with them ! Think of the general astonishment ! 
Goose feathers in mid June! It could only be Madame 
Lavenefs unique goose. ISo one doubted it any more, 
when they saw Philom^ne enter the dear lady’s house 
about mid-day, and stay there.” 

^‘Whence we must conclude—?” asked Charles, whom 
all these small gossipings infinitely amused. 

That the goose has not been vainly sacrificed, and that 
we shall soon hear Lavenel’s and your cousin’s betrothal 


102 


PHILOMi:NE’s MARRIAGES. 


announced. But above all, don’t go and speak to her 
about it.” 

Never fear, Madame Aubier : we are as discreet as 
two tombs. Moreover, your information agrees too well 
with my own observations for me not to give it entire 
faith. Now we must not speak of the marriage — ” 

Virginie returned at that moment with a plate full of 
venerable fruit, wrinkled like russet apples, and they 
talked no more about marriage. 

^^Are you going to stay long amongst us, Mademoiselle?” 
Charles asked the young girl, who was contemplating, 
with a sort of respect, ^^one of the glories of France,” 
as the articles of his friends said. 

do not know. Monsieur,” replied Virginie. ^^My 
godmother had the kindness to ask me to come and stay 
with her for a few days — ” 

You will stay as long as you like, darling,” her god- 
mother interrupted, ^^It is a great joy for our house to 
have a pretty young girl to enliven it a little ! Try and 
wish not to go away too soon ! ” 

Don’t be worried, godmother; I am very much 
pleased here ! 

The young girl approached the good lady, and laid her 
hand on her shoulder with a gesture of infantine and 
familiar tenderness, quite in harmony with the persons 
and the place; so much so that Charles and his wife 
exchanged a look of approbation. 

would like to marry her here, so that she would 
never leave,” continued Madame Aubier, addressing 


piiilomene’s mareiages. 


103 


herself to the young people. is true her husband 

would take her away from me; but I should have the 
resource of going to see her during the hours in the day 
when I am alone. A house without children is a sad one 
— especially when it has been full of them and none 
remain.’^ 

The excellent woman’s sigh found an echo in Marie’s 
heart. She, too, had lost children, and knew what it 
costs one. Virginie’s hand reposed more caressingly on 
her godmother’s shoulder, and her look, full of kindness, 
sought Madame Verroy’s eyes, to show her the expression 
of her sympathy. 

‘^She is charming — perfectly charming,” thought the 
young woman, answering the look. 

^^Do you hope to marry her, Madame Aubier?”said 
slie, out loud. “What man would deserve so good a 
child?” 

“Ah ! I don’t know ! don’t talk to me about it ! I am 
not her mother — she has lost hers, the poor little one — and 
yet I feel a real mother-in-law’s sentiments in regard to 
the one who will take her from me ! She has some for- 
tune — not much, but enough, about eighteen hundred 
francs income — her father troubles himself no more about 
lier than about the old moons of last year ; if an honest 
fellow should be found, and she should be willing to marry 
him, he would do well to carry her away, for I should tear 
out his eyes.” 

“And if he made her unhappy, what would you do?” 
asked Charles, smiling. 


104 


philomene’s maeriages. 


Then, oh ! then, I would do to him — mafoi ! I know 
not what ! One is very much to be pitied when they are 
obliged to have sons-in-law in this life — at least, so my 
father said when I married ! 

The good creature smiled and her eyes were moist, 
Virginie put her two hands on Madame Aubier’s round, 
fat shoulders, as though she were going to embrace her, 
but she did not dare to show so much demonstration before 
strangers, and this mute clasp was all her timidity would 
allow ; she returned to the window and took her knitting. 

After a few minutes. Monsieur and Madame Verroy 
withdrew, and the first word they exchanged was in 
admiration of Virginie’s charm. 

^^She reinstates the name ! That is saying every thing,^^ 
concluded Charles. ^^For thirty years it has only been 
worn by cooks ! 


philomene’s makriages. 


105 


CHAPTER X, 


KEEPING SECRETS, 



IWO days passed without Philom^ne’s being seen at 


-L La Heuserie, arid this infraction of a habit she had 
contracted of taking all her meals there, did not fail to 
surprise our young people. 

^^She is perhaps eating the remains of the goose said 
Charles; but this purely material explanation did not 
satisfy his wife. However, in want of enlightenment, she 
confined herself to conjectures, which were far better 
founded than she even believed. 

In effect, the goose had presided at a repast worthy of 
the sacrificial feasts, where the augurs eat the flesh of pro- 
phetic victims. Lavenel had at last obtained from Philo- 
m^ne the promise that she would consecrate to him the 
remainder of her days. 

What motive decided the widow to accept the admirer 
who had so many times been rejected ? A motive of an 
extreme simplicity: Philomene had only a very vague 
intention of keeping her promise, so vague in truth, that 
it was not even the ghost of an intention; it was rather 
quite the contrary. 

But for the moment she wished Lavenel to leave her in 
peace ; with her Parisian relations, in the intimacy in 
which she lived with very civilized people, it hurt her 


7 


106 


philomi^ne’s marriages. 


self-love that she should be openly sought after by the 
grain merchant. This latter — steel against steel — had 
lately invented a new means for obtaining his end : he had 
informed all Di^lette of his intentions in regard to the 
widow, so much so that she could not take a step without 
hearing her admirer spoken of. 

^^Ah ! well, that poor Lavenel, will you keep him 
sighing always ? said the gossips ; he neither eats nor 
drinks ! ” 

This persecution of a new kind had irritated Philom^ne 
exceedingly, but it was not in her nature even to act openly; 
and she had accepted Lavenel with the intention of chang- 
ing her mind as soon as Monsieur and Madame Verroy 
should leave La Heuserie. The voyage which she intended 
to make to Paris at the young couple’s expense would 
serve as a reason for her change of humor. 

This Machiavelian combination ought surely to succeed ; 
but one always forgets something, and it is that something 
that throws the train off the track. Lavenel, who only 
half trusted his lovely future wife’s word, continued the 
system that seemed to have succeeded so well for him, and, 
under the seal of the most profound secrecy, his mother 
and himself informed two or three of the glibest tongues 
in the place, that Madame Cr^pin would shortly change 
her name for that of Madame Lavenel. One part of the 
secret, however, was well kept: it had been agreed th.at they 
would say nothing about it to the people of La Heuserie, 
and everybody was of one mind about keeping silence. 

^^They have asked her to leave them her pro])erty, 3mu 


piiilomene’s marriages. 


107 


see,” said Lavenel in confidence, ^^and if they learn she is 
going to marry again, they would very likely do something 
unpleasant to her. They are not at all accommodating, 
those Parisians; for a ^yes,’ or a ^no,^ they will summon 
persons before the Justice of Peace !” 

The Justice of Peace is what every good Norman fears 
the most after God, and sometimes before Him, for no one 
knows what his neighbor may say truly or falsely, and 
differences which are to be settled are arranged at a loss 
rather than to appear before the magistrate. Lavenel was 
thus certain of obtaining silence from his confidants through 
this dreaded name, and, in effect, no one had any desire to 
speak about Philom^ne to the people of La Heuserie.” 

Madame Crepin had made of the silence to be kept in 
regard to her relations a condition sine qua non of her 
consent. An old Polish custom consists in introducing a 
case of nullity in every marriage contract, thus correcting 
what might be redoubtable and inconvenient in eternal 
bonds. Philom^ne, who, however, completely ignored 
everything in relation to Poland, had found an analogous 
resource in her natural character. It was very little prob- 
able that Monsieur and Madame Verroy would not hear 
her proposed marriage spoken of, and as soon as they were 
informed of it, the moment would come for her to disen- 
gage herself from Lavenel of a hazardous promise ! 

She reserved to herself, besides, the right to maintain to 
and against every one, that she had never promised any- 
thing, and that her pretended consent was an audacious lie 
of Lavenel’s and his mother. There had been no witnesses 


108 


PH ilomene’s marriages. 


to her promise^ and without witnesses one cannot furnish a 
proof ; every one is aware of this. 

And who knew? She might, perhaps, marry Lavenel, 
but not so long as his mother lived ; oh ! as to that, no ! 
She did not wish any mother-in-law ! But if, taking pity 
on the weariness she must feel, after so well-filled a life, 
God should call the old dame to Himself — first, Lavenel 
would be richer, and then who knew but that they might 
perhaps leave the grain and flour trade, so as to go to 
Pieux, and make the land more valuable? Philom^ne 
had always dreamed of directing some great work, aiid of 
making servants, as they say, walk under finger and 
eye ! 

But never so long as the Parisians should be there! 
They would not remain there always. One obtains, by 
striving, two grindings out of the same bag of flour, but 
cannot obtain a third. They would disgust the Parisians 
with the place, which would not be very difficult; and 
when Philom^ne had made them furnish all they could, 
that would benefit or be pleasant for her, they would leave, 
never to return, shaking from off their sandals the dust of 
the country that had deceived them, and Madame Cr^pin 
would be free to act according to her humor. 

Verroy could give over Di^lette to public vengeance, 
and erase it from the number of honest places where the 
friends of repose and simplicity could pass a few weeks. 

What did Philom^ne care? First, she had never 
thought about it; and then, if she had thought, she would 
only have shrugged her shoulders. What could that 
matter to her? 


philomMe’s makkiages* 


109 


She had told Lavenel that her cousins had asked her to 
leave them property; that it was only to their obsessions 
that she had given the imprudent promise ; she feigned to 
fear their vengeance; and the poor man, duly trained, had 
repeated his lesson. But, strangely, he did not believe a 
word that Philomene said to him about her fortune, her 
intentions, or of anything that concerned her interests. 
He knew she was false and untruthful, and still he had 
unhesitatingly swallowed this falsehood and calumny, 
probably because not being the object of it, what con- 
cerned his neighbor was indifferent to him. And then it 
is so sweet to think evil of others ! 

When this rumor reached Madame AubiePs ears, she 
shook her head with a displeased air. 

^^No,” said she to the kind soul who had brought it to 
her, ^‘1 will never believe the Verroys capable of such a 
thing, and I think them incapable of revenging themselves 
for a disappointment. I do not wish to know who told you 
that, my dear lady; but, whoever it was, you must tell her 
she is mistaken, and that she would do well to reflect twice 
before repeating a thing that might draw upon her some- 
thing disagreeable and well deserved. I am sure, if Mon- 
sieur Verroy heard that spoken of, he would go back to the 
source of it, and it would end badly for all those who have 
mixed themselves up in it ! 

^^At least, you are not going to tell it to him, Madame 
Aubier!^’ exclaimed the alarmed gossip. 

I never repeat gossip,^^ replied the good lady, it is 
more than enough to listen to it ; but I advise you to be 
more prudent.” 


no 


philomI:ne’s marriages. 


Yirginie, who had listened without saying a word, 
waited till the visitor had left; then she came forward. 

Because you are good and just, godmother, I think as 
you do. It seems to me impossible that the gentleman 
and lady who were here the other day should be capable 
of so low an idea.^^ 

You are right, child; they are good, nice people, and 
I would put my hand in the fire, if that is not another 
trick of Philom^ne^s. Here is a basket of nice straw- 
berries,’^ she continued after a silence; will you go and 
take them to La Heuserie, to your friends, the Parisians?” 

Oh, godmother ! ” said Virginie, blushing with plea- 
sure. ^‘All alone ? ” 

^^Are you afraid the wolf will eat you?” 

No, godmother, but I don’t know them.” 

You will know them. Goat once; it seems to me that 
I ought to make them reparation for the disagreeable things 
I have just heard. If I had better legs I would go with 
you ; but I am no longer of an age for tripping over the 
roads. Go, child.’^ 

Yirginie took from the anteroom a large hat, made of 
common straw, and trimmed with black velvet, possessed 
herself of the basket, and with a merry heart and brisk 
step she set forth towards La Heuserie. 


philo.mexe’s marriages. 


Ill 


CHAPTER XL 

THE WOLF. 

T he afternoon was lovely; the sea rolled with a 
dreamy regularity, and the silver fringe that bor- 
dered the waves left small flakes of foam on the fine sand, 
that shone in the sunshine. Light clouds floated very high 
in the heavens, and millions of spangles danced on the sea 
in the tremblings of the waves. Virginie walked on wdth 
her basket, like Little Rod Riding Hood, happy and proud 
to be sent as a messenger to the renowned Parisians. 

The seeds of the dandelions which children call travel- 
lers,’^ and which floated on every side in the June air, 
were not lighter than the young girl’s heart. She went 
on, blowing at times on a little traveller” that slowly 
passed her face, looking at the bay with admiration with- 
out quite realizing what she felt ; then, casting her eyes on 
the grassy hill-tops, saying to herself, that it was all very 
beautiful, and that life was very sweet. 

Happy youth ! There are hours when approaching 
twenty years of age, in which the heart suddenly grows 
warm and swells, and like unto a balloon floats away to 
the far heights of heaven without one’s knowing the 
reason why. A bright day comes, a gentle wind shakes 
the leaves, the ^^travellers’’ fly about on all sides, a 
thrush warbles on a branch, and behold ! all at once one 


112 


PHILOMI:NE’s MARRIAaES. 


says to one’s self, that life is good and long, that the 
future will be happy, that the world is full of unexplored 
joys. When we are past thirty we no longer know the 
charm of such reveries : joys have come, but the rest has 
come too, alas ! 

Virgiuie was not yet twenty years old, and on such a 
beautiful day it seemed impossible to her that something 
pleasant should not happen to her. She had read much 
in fairy tales, and — here we will make a parenthesis. 

There have been found very wise people full of practical 
sense, of cleverness even, who have declared the perusal of 
fairy tales pernicious, and calculated to pervert the judg- 
ment of childhood. These wise persons are certainly 
right, for it is undeniable that animals speak no human 
tongue whatever, that magicians cannot change pumpkins 
into chariots, and that kings’ sons marry in preference 
princesses of their own rank when they can find them ; 
but has a child ever been met with so little intelligence 
as really to believe in so many wonders? A child is not 
as credulous as one supposes : if he has an absolute faith 
in his father’s and mother’s word, it is because he looks 
them in their eyes while they are talking ; it is on account 
of a habit born with his first cries, which has taught him 
that his parents love him and only wish his welfare. But 
if a stranger tries to tell him some extraordinary fact, to 
give him some information that seems improbable to his 
mind — which is intolerant because he is ignorant — the 
child looks at the stranger with the undefinable arch look 
of one who feigns to be deceived through good-breeding. 


philomene’s marriages. 


113 


and says afterwards: He thought I believed him, but it 
is not true, papa, is it?^^ A child does not believe in 
fairy tales any more than he believes in Santa Claus ; but 
he finds an extraordinary pleasure in persuading himself 
that he believes in them. After the disagreeable lesson, 
the scolding master, the little burn that makes him suffer, 
after the punishment that deprives him of his dessert, after 
the task or verb to be studied during recreation — it is very 
nice to say to himself : ^^Ah ! if there were only fairies ! 
If the ceiling could open to let a marvellous lady pass 
through, covered with satin and diamonds, who would 
carry me off to her palace ! How would the palace be 
made?^^ At once the task, the burn, the master, the dry 
bread, are forgotten, and the child dreams of chimeras 
appropriate to his age; just as later, he will dream of an 
infinite, eternal love — as later still, he will dream of being 
a prefect or of having a red ribbon. 

Who would wish to deprive a young man of believing 
in the disinterested love of his washerwoman ? who would 
have the courage to refuse the small tradesman the hope 
of having some day a country house on a hill-side in the 
environs of Paris ? Neither the one nor the other really 
believe in their dream, but they love to persuade them- 
selves that they do. And that is happiness! Do we not 
all speak of dreams that in the very depths of ourselves we 
know cannot be realized? 

Virginie had read many fairy tales, and of course, be it 
understood, did not believe in them, but she loved to recall 
them, and, as she was walking, she mingled confusedly in 


114 


phii.om^ine’s marriages. 


her memory, Little Red Riding Hood, Cinderella, and 
The Ass’s Skin. 

On the road to La Heuserie one could not meet wolves 
or kings’ sons ; however, she said to herself, that if the 
king’s son had passed on the road the day that the wolf 
eat Little Red Riding Hood, attracted by the poor child’s 
cries, he would have burst in the door, killed the wolf, 
and carried off the little shepherdess to his mother, the 
queen’s house; the queen was kind. Little Red Riding 
Hood amiable and charming; in spite of the futility of 
her character the king’s son would have married her, and 
then — 

Where are you going like that, my pretty young 
lady?” said a voice, quite close to Virginie. 

^^It is the wolf!” thought she, with a shiver that 
shook the basket of strawberries, and made some fall 
on the ground. 

It was not the wolf! it was Lavenel, v/ho made hence- 
forth every day an inspection around La Heuserie. The 
master’s eye, you see! 

Recovered from her fright, Virginie bowed to the grain 
merchant, whom she had known since a long while. 

I am going to see the Parisians,” said she, to take 
them this basket of strawberries my godmother sends 
them.” 

Lavenel, faithful to his habit, took t\vo strawberries out 
of the basket, and ate them without ceremony ; then he 
raised his eyes on the young girl, and seemed quite aston- 
ished. 


philom^:ne’s marriages. 


115 


^^You have grown very much since last year/^ said 
he, with more grace than he generally showed in the 
relations of life. ^^How old are you, Mademoiselle 
Virginie?’^ 

will be twenty on All-Saints’ day/’ replied the 
young girl. 

^^And you are going to La Heuserie? I am going a 
little farther ; I do not wish to detain you.” 

He walked on with Virginie, and on the way asked her 
a thousand questions relative to her father, to the state of 
his affairs, and his plans. Without distrust the young 
girl answered him frankly. First, she did not know how 
to lie ; and then Lavenel, about to marry Philora^ne, was 
nearly a married man, and in her eyes, a man forty years 
old, married or nearly so, was a venerable personage. 

Never will people of forty years of age know how old 
they seem to those who are only twenty ! 

Lavenel thus learned that Monsieur Beuron had bought 
three pieces of land, that he had replaced a bad cow for 
two good ones, that his last crop of oats had been sold for 
a fifth more than his neighbor’s, because its quality was 
very much superior; and all this gave him much to reflect 
upon. He walked with his head down, buried in pro- 
found meditation, when suddenly : 

^‘And you. Mademoiselle Virginie, when are you going 
to marry ? ” said he, in a gentle voice. 

I ? There is time enough. Besides, I am very hard 
to please ! ” 

‘‘You have the right to be,” the grain merchant replied, 


116 


PHILOMi:NE’S MARRIAGES. 


gallantly; but to correct what might be too amiable in 
that phrase, he added, immediately : 

rich young lady like yourself has a right to aspire 
to what is best.^^ 

I am not very rich,” Virginie replied, innocently. 

Bah ! you certainly have two thousand francs in- 
come?” 

Only eighteen hundred.” 

^Ah ! well, that is very nice! Is it in land?” 

No, in ready money. It is a fancy of my father^s, 
who wished to liquidate what I inherited from my mother 
as soon as she died, so that he should have no trouble 
when I became of age.” 

In crowns!” repeated Lavenel. ^^It is an odd idea, 
and not a very good one ; for you know. Mademoiselle, 
people around here like land better.” 

My husband, however, will have to be satisfied with 
it,” replied Virginie, smiling. 

Land, you see,” continued Lavenel, can be seen, can 
be touched” — he struck the ground with his inelegant foot 
— while bonds, what are they ? Only paper ! There is 
nothing but land under the sun !” 

Virginie scarcely listened to him; La Heuserie was not 
far distant, and the young girl was asking herself how she 
should turn her little complimentary speech on arriving, 
when Lavenel troubled her meditation. 

^^But your father has no other child ?” said he. ^^You 
are his only heiress?” 

Virginie gently shook her head. 


philom£:ne’s marriages. 


117 


There is a second wife/^ said she, with a shadow of 
sadness in her sweet-toned voice. I think he will leave 
her his fortune.^^ 

^^Ah ! the devil! Only the half of it, at most!’^ 
exclaimed Lavenel, suddenly, much warmed. ‘^One does 
not disinherit one’s child. What is this you tell me?” 

Virginie continued to shake her head very gently, and 
he went on, with fresh vehemence: 

That is tangible property, furnished houses and build- 
ings ! If it were papers — bonds, titles of incomes, pay- 
able to the bearer — such as they have nowadays, I would 
say nothing ! But as to tangible property — it cannot be I 
You can plead, you can gain the suit!” 

^^Ah ! Monsieur Lavenel,” said the young girl, sadly, 
there is no lawsuit to be made. They have made a con- 
tract, and what they owned is not to be in common ! ” 

Lavenel, who had cooled a little, took a few steps 
without saying anything ; then, returning to a mysterious 
idea which he did not emit — 

‘^Was your father rich when he married the second 
time?” asked he. 

He was comfortably oif.” 

‘^Then you will have the half of what he owned at 
that time! You are an heiress. Mademoiselle Virginie ! 
Do you understand law ? ” 

‘^A little,” answered the young girl, with a melancholy 
tone. One is obliged to do so, when one has to protect 
one’s property ! ” 

You do well! An heiress should always understand 


118 


PHILOMfcXE^S MARRIAGES. 


law! Well, as to myself, should I marry,^^ — here Vi r- 
ginie looked at him askant, but he pretended not to see it 
— would wish to put everything in common, so that 
my wife’s interests would only be one with mine, and I 
would know how to protect them, I can tell you 

Philom^ne’s people (relations) have only to hold out 
well ! thought Virginie. revoir, Monsieur Lave- 

nel,’’ said she, out loud, here I am.’^ 

To one of these days. Mademoiselle,^’ answered Philo- 
m^ne’s gallant, honoring the young girl with a great bow 
with his hat. 


phjlom^:ne’s makeiages. 


119 


CHAPTER XIL 

• A SUDDEN INVASION. 

Y IRGINIE entered the yard ; at the noise of the bar 
falling, Marie appeared at the first-story window. 
Charles, said she, to her husband, there is the 
Greuze coming with a basket of strawberries.^^ 

Charles ran rapidly do\vn the stairs to see the Greuze, 
and nearly fell on the young girl, who drew back a step, 
smiling. 

That is what comes of too much haste, Mademoiselle/^ 
said he, conducting her into the room on the ground floor ; 
‘Gn my impatience to see you, I nearly killed you.^^ 

Virginie began to laugh ; this unceremonious manner 
put her at her ease, and her sympathy for the Parisians 
redoubled, when she saw Marie enter, cordial and merry 
as usual, who, holding out both her hands, and taking 
her basket, addressed her at once half a dozen friendly 
questions, all calculated to provoke the confidence and to 
encourage the young provincial girks timidity. 

‘^Was it yourself. Mademoiselle, who thought of com- 
ing, or rather your godmother who sent you?’^ asked 
Charles, who loved to see the young girl’s ^yhite teeth 
appear from under her timid and kindly smile. 

do not wish to tell an untruth. Monsieur,” said she; 
^Mt was my godmother who bade me come; but she knew 
very well the pleasure she gave me.” 


120 


PHIL0M^:NE’S MARRIAGES. 


Nicely answered/^ said the novelist, with an air of 
approbation. ^^And do you think, Mademoiselle Vir- 
ginie, you will have as much pleasure in returning 
another time ? 

‘^As to that, I am very sure,” replied she, looking at 
Marie. 

By the end of five minutes, the most perfect cordiality 
reigned between our three friends, and one would have 
said they had known each other all their lives. 

It sometimes happens that a sympathy of opinion on 
the most essential points is understood between persons 
who see each other for the first time — a word, a look 
meetly exchanged, makes one divine that the new-comer 
thinks and feels like one’s self — then a great cordiality is 
established, that is all the stronger, because it is so sud- 
den, and that it gives to the new friends the unhoped-for 
pleasure of an agreeable discovery. 

This was wdiat happened to Virginie in regard to the 
young couple: she felt herself their friend, and immedi- 
ately, with the enthusiasm which is one of the most beauti- 
ful gifts of her age, they became as dear to her as tliough 
she had known them all her life. 

Charles made Virginie tell him about the impressions 
of her childhood; he found an extraordinary charm of 
freshness and grace in the recital of the young girl’s 
thoughts, who, more intelligent than her surroundings, 
was still, however, a stranger to all vanity and ambition. 

^‘And have you never desired to live in large cities?” 
asked he, at length. 


PHILOMf^NE^S MARRIAGES. 


121 


Never answered the young girl. could live 
there, perhaps, as well as another, for I imagine one 
must meet many beautiful things in them, and also kind 
people,^^ added she, looking at Madame Verroy, while 
her pretty face became covered with a blush at the 
thought of her boldness. 

A shadow appeared upon the door — always open 
according to the patriarchal custom of the country — 
and amidst a cry of joy and astonishment, and Charles’ 
and Marie’s hearty laughter, there was seen to fall at 
Virgin ie’s feet, who drew back with affright, a straw hat, 
a case for another, a travelling easel, a parasol, and an 
artist’s folding-chair, a gourd, a box of paints, a handker- 
chief tied at the four corners containing linen and shoes, 
and a large body, clad in gray and shod with canvas 
sandals, stretched itself out at full length on the family 
bench, exclaiming : 

^^Ah ! well ! talk to me of leagues in the country for 
refreshing a man ! I am dead, my friends, I am dead ! ” 

Virginie, who was alarmed, contemplated this invasion 
without knowing what to say; and a lost cat who had 
adopted the Verroys’ hearth, and who warmed herself 
thereat usually, with her paws curled up, and her nose on 
the ashes, now erected her back, hissed, and flew up the 
chimney. 

It is our friend, Masson,” said Charles, to reassure her. 

Masson arose, picked up his hat, and made a Louis 
XIII. bow to the young girl, sweeping the ground v/ith 
the border of his Yokohama, the which he had paid 
8 


122 


PHILOMi^NE^S MARRIAGES. 


forty-five centimes for in a shop opposite the railway- 
station, and said to her in a melodious voice : 

Mademoiselle, I am your very humble servant.^^ 
Everyone burst out laughing, and Virginie, growing 
emboldened, aided Marie in picking up all the luggage 
that was strewn on the ground. 

^^Accept, mesdames, my humble apologies for the 
trouble I give you,^^ groaned Masson, reassuming his 
place on the bench, but I have walked six leagues, with 
the little things that you behold, and in canvas sandals 
Those fantastic shoes, covered with mud of all colors, 
had gained on the way a double sole of clay, that was far 
more thick than the first, and laughter began again. 

Marie brought wine, fruit, bread and butter; and Vir- 
ginie, who had decidedly adopted her, following her 
everywhere, had ended by discovering, one knew not 
how, but with that intuition of poodles and persons who 
have loving hearts, a glass, knives and forks, and a 
napkin, and Masson left his horizontal position and seated 
himself before the feast. 

At the moment when, having filled his glass, he was 
about to carry it to his lips, he stopped and raised it to his 
brow. 

I drink to the hospitable gods,” said he to his hosts ; 
^^to Hebe!” added he, turning towards Virginie, who, 
amazed, lowered her eyes, half smiling. 

After having emptied his glass, Masson attacked the 
solids, and, after some moments, during which the others 
had looked at him eating : 


PHILOMilNE’s MAREIAGES. 


123 


I feel better/^ said he. This is how it all happened — 

A slight noise attracted his attention towards the chim- 
ney; he saw the cat, who, having recognized the absence 
of all danger, carefully descended the pot-hook and re- 
turned to her beloved ashes that were still warm. 

^^As our number is now complete,^^ said he, I begin : 
Night before last I w^as strapping my valise, when I saw 
Benedict enter; I had left my key in my door, and you 
will learn, by-and-by, what that negligence cost me ! 
Benedict entered then, looked at me packing up my effects, 
and remarking a superb pair of hunting shoes, that had 
never assisted at the killing of anything but a hare last 
year, he said to me; 

What are you going to do with those 

Wear them down there,’ rej)lied I. 

^ Down there — where ? ’ 

^^^In Normandy, on the beach, in the sand.’ 

^^^In the sand, where?’ 

^ Somewhere near Pieux.’ 

^^^Pieux? that is inland; I was there five or six years 
ago.’ 

Well ! on the cliffs, somewhere; there are cliffs there, 
the de-vil ! ’ 

^^^Oh! yes, my friend, there are some there! But do 
you imagine you can walk in that country in gendarme’s 
boots? It’s all rocks, my friend, all rocks! You would 
say you were walking on curry-combs with their points 
up in the air ! Never could you walk there in those.’ 

‘^He turned my beautiful boots round with disdain. 


124 


PHILOMjfcNE^S MARRIAGES. 


and having said this, he let them fall on the floor from 
the height of a mUre, I confess they were heavy. 

^^MVhat do you wish me to put on my feet, then?^ I 
asked him, with the innocence of a lamb who baas, calling 
the butcher. 

^ Canvas sandals, my dear, canvas sandals ! They are 
supple and soft, the thick sole preserves one from the 
points of the rocks, and then one is so comfortable in 
them ! ^ 

Sybaritism and the natural cowardice of man aiding, 
I bought some beautiful canvas sandals ; you see them’^ — 
Masson stretched out his feet that had no longer any form 
or color — ^^and I put them in my travelling bag. I left 
— I arrived — as they say in dramas. They deposited me 
at a little station covered with roses. Oh ! such roses ! I 
have never seen so many, except on your cheeks. Mademoi- 
selle,’’ said he, turning towards Virginie, who was listening 
to him with wide-opened eyes; there was also a carriage 
there — a sort of stage- wagon — that brought me to Pieux. 
Till there, everything went well; it was this morning, 
about ten o’clock, at Pieux, and apropos, why do they call 
it Pieux ? Without making a pun,* there is only one, the 
belfry of the church, which one can see at least from the 
outskirts of Paris, so never-ending is it. There I re- 
freshed myself, and I asked the inn-keeper — who could 
have thought of him? he had the air of such an honest 
man ! — I asked him if Di^lette was far away, and if that 
place was far from the one before it. 


* Pieux, meaning in French pious persons. — Translator’s Note. 


philomi:ne’s makeiages. 


125 


is a short hour from here by the cross-roads/ the 
inn-keeper answered. 

Very well/ said I, will go on foot.^ 
shouldered all that you see there; I looked like 
Dupuis in the Cigale, but not so nice, you know, and 
behold me off by the cross-road. I walked a short hour, 
and then a long one, and I did not see the sea ; my man 
had told me that a little before reaching your house I 
would see the sea. I said to myself it was because I was 
too much loaded, that I did not march in regulation step, 
and then I walked another short hour. Then — I had 
patent-leather boots ; on they are there, tied in the hand- 
kerchief — my toes began to burn, and I sat down upon 
the edge of a hillside and put on my canvas sandals, my 
triumphant sandals, and I set forth again with a lighter 
step certainly. 

When I had walked a short hilomUrey I felt quite com- 
fortable, but, nevertheless, the leagues of the country 
began to seem long to me. Then the landscape changed ; 
no more heaths, but ravines, delicious ravines, with ador- 
able brooks, filled with delectable cresses, that made me 
think of the Cyropedia, and of roast chicken ; then more 
ravines, more brooks, more cresses. I think I said to 
myself, ^Friend Masson! you have lost the cross-road.’ 
And, in effect, I had lost it ! But I found another, and 
besides, when one loses a cross-road, it is not lost for every 
one.” 

Here another shadow appeared in the door, and Philo- 
m^ne entered quietly; at this sight Virginie blushed, the 


126 


philom^:ne’s makriages. 


cat agaia fled, and Marie rose to ofier a chair. A short 
moment of general discomfiture followed, then Masson 
continued his story, but without any pleasure or gayety — 
fatigue had evidently gotten the upper hand. Virginie 
left, accompanied by the pleadings of Charles and his 
wife to renew her visit often. 

have no voice in the chapter,” said Masson, bowing; 
but if I dared. Mademoiselle, I would express the same 
wish.” 

In thanking him, Virginie gave him a look so full of 
mischief and of fun, that the young man was amazed. 

She is charming ! she is charming ! she is charming ! ” 
said he, when she had disappeared. ^^One can very well 
steal that verse from Monsieur Augier, in speaking of 
such an amiable girl ! ” 

Since we have known her, my dear,” replied Verroy, 
^^we have said nothing else to each other!” 

Philomene threw towards the door, through which 
Virginie had disappeared, a sullen look, full of thieaten- 
ings, but the door did not seem moved by it; and Masson, 
who had followed it, was not moved any the more, but he 
lodged it in his memory, to take it out later — when the 
time and season arrived. 


philomene’s maekiages. 


127 


CHAPTEE XIII. 

HOW HAPPY COULD I BE WITH EITHER. 
AVENEL had returned to his home — for no business 



-J— ^ whatever had led him in the direction of La 
Heuserie — reflecting profoundly on many secret things. 

First, through what singular chance had it happened 
that Virginie Beuron had delayed that year the visit she 
generally made her godmother at Easter time? People 
who change their habits are truly insupportable ! One is 
accustomed to see them in April, they arrive in July; and 
one doesn^t even know where one is in the seasons. 

And then how pretty she was, that little girl! The 
year before she was not much to look at. Those little 
thinnish girls who change their feathers often cause one 
these surprises; but it is stupid, for truly one does not 
know any longer what to count on with them ! She was 
black, behold her white and pink; she was long, with 
spider claws put for arms in her shoulders; and now she 
has superb arms. It is absurd ! 

And then what a droll sort of body — the father Beuron 
— to have put his daughter’s fortune in crowns I 

Lavenel had slandered crowns; first, because it is the 
custom of the Xormand country, and then because it was 
his whim to slander them just then; but at the bottom it 
would be a very fine advantage for the coming son-in-law, 


128 


philom^ine's maeriages. 


on the condition, however, that the son-in-law was an 
intelligent man, who w^ould not go and dream of recon- 
verting the crowns into land ! Crowns! they are made to 
roll ! Trade, for instance, that lives from credit, but also 
from a great deal of ready money, that was what that 
pretty dot in sounding crowns needed ! 

Here Lavenel thought of his debts; he owed around 
the world ten thousand francs, and found it hard to pay 
the interest at twelve per cent. His lender was very 
amiable, and did not reclaim any reimbursement either 
near at hand or in the distance; but twelve per cent, a 
year — that made one per cent, a month — and when there 
are a great many hundreds, it is an income! An income 
that one would have to regain here and there on grain, 
wheat and issues. Lavenel sighed. 

How unattractive Philom^ne Avas! Hold! there she 
was coming, with her angular walk, her fist resting back- 
wai'ds on her hip, as though she were giving herself a 
thrust to send herself forward! What a difference between 
Philomene and Virginie ! Eh! eh! but then it was 
natural; for between those two women there Avas a flight 
of twenty years of age. 

LaA^enel thought over Yirginie’s charms; and to avoid 
the sight of his betrothed, he opened a fence, entered a 
field, and disappeared from sight. 

His thoughts had follow'ed him, hoAvever; for, on 
entering his house, he threw Avith a bad humor three 
sprigs of clover — sometimes called sweet pink trefoil 
— on the table. From over her spectacles old Madame 


PHILOMi:NE^S MAKRIAGES. 


129 


Lavenel contemplated the three sprigs for a long time, 
then her son, then the three sprigs again, and ended by 
asking : 

What is that 

That,^^ replied her son, is some clover of Louis Bon- 
Marin’s, that I picked in his grass-field ! 

said the old woman, without ceasing to cast 
her eyes from the clover to her heir. She did not seize 
the relation between the sprigs of hay and Master Theo- 
dore Lavenefs bad humor. 

The latter dragged his hat over his eyes, plunged his 
Punchinello’s nose and his sharp-pointed chin in the mys- 
teries of his cravat, with its many folds; then, without 
any preamble: 

^^Do you know, mother,” said he, ^^that Virginie 
Beuron will have thirty-six francs of dot in ready 
money?” 

No, my boy,” answered the old woman, who stopped 
looking at her son, and the sprigs of clover, to return to 
her knitting, for she had understood the enigma. 

^Olnd then the half of her father’s fortune, at the 
latter’s death?” 

Madame Lavenel shook her head negatively, and set 
her needles to work dextrously. 

^^And a pretty girl is Virginie, and amiable, and 
polite !” 

He made a few turns around the shop, gave a kick to 
an empty bag that was lying on the floor, and suddenly, 
between his teeth: 


130 


philom£:ne’s makeiages. 


deserve my fate/’ said he; ‘^one needs to be an 
imbecile to wish to marry Philom^ne ! ” 

For a moment the steel needles beat the measure of a 
little rapid and melancholy tune. 

There is nothing done about it yet/’ said Madame 
Lavenel, slowly. 

Theodore turned around brusquely. 

You said, mother?” 

There is nothing done about it,” repeated the old 
woman with her tranquil voice. 

Lavenel came and leaned on the counter, placed his two 
elbows on it, his head in his two hands, and for a quarter 
of an hour the mother and son talked to each other in a 
low voice, as they do in melodramas. 


philomI:ne’s makriages. 


131 


CHAPTER XIV. 

AN IDEAL WIFE. 

that you have some one with you,” said 
Philom^ne to her cousin, the next morning, a 
little before the hour for breakfast, will come no more, 
except when you have need of me.” 

Leaning over the hearth, Marie was making an omelette 
by the aid of a nice, bright beech-wood fire, that danced 
briskly around the stove ; she raised her fork in the air 
with which she was superintending the cooking, looked 
at Madame Cr6pin, and said to her in astonishment : 

^^Why?” 

Because I don’t wish to trouble you in your friendly 
relations,” the widow replied, with the modesty which 
formed her most lovely appanage. 

Marie shrugged her shoulders, and plunged her fork 
in the beaten eggs. 

I don’t see in what you could trouble us,” said she, 
after a moment, and I do not see, either, why you say 
such things; you know very well it annoys me.” 

do not wish to annoy you, my dear,” answered 
Madame Cr6pin, in a piqued tone; ^^it is just exactly 
in order not to annoy you that henceforth I shall stay at 
home.” 

Come, Philom^ne,” said Madame Verroy, leaving her 


132 


philo:!h^:ne’s marriages. 


post of trust, why do you say such absurdities ? You 
get angry, one knows not for what reason. You take a 
fancy not to come here for eight days, I do not ask you 
for what motive; you come then, every day, during another 
week; I am delighted at it. You are as free as the air 
here. What whim has made you feel the necessity of 
announcing to me your sedentary caprice? If you wished 
to stop at home, and not cause me annoyance, you should 
have done so without speaking of it ! 

Philom^ne did not answer, but turned her back to the 
light, and there remained standing, motionless like a child 
placed in punishment, during which time Marie deposited 
the omelette on the table. 

Where are our gentlemen?’^ said she, glancing around 
the room. She then perceived Madame Cr^pin’s woful 
countenance, and approached her. 

Well?’^ putting her hand on her shoulder. 

Philom^ne turned away her head and smothered a sob ! 

Tears said Marie, more irritated at the bottom of 
her heart than she would have liked to avow. Come, 
Philom^ne, what is the matter?^’ 

^^You treat me harshly said the widow, swallowing 
her tears. I only love you, in all the world ; it is very 
painful to me to have my friendship and delicacy so 
strangely rewarded ! 

Marie said to herself that Philom^ne chose her moments 
of eifusion very inopportunely, for the omelette was grow- 
ing cold with the rapidity peculiar to omelettes. Madame 
Verroy resolved to end the situation at once. 


PHILOM^:XE^S MARRIAGES. 


133 


^^Sifc down there, great stupid!’^ said she, laying her 
two hands on her cousin’s shoulders, which precipitated 
Madame Cr4pin in a chair ; sit up at the table, eat some 
omelette, and don’t say any more absurdities ! ” 

She repaired what there might have been too uncere- 
monious in this speech by a kiss on both her cheeks, and 
went out to call the two young men, w^hom she found in 
the court-yard. 

don’t like eggs,” said Philom^ne; ‘^they do not agree 
with me.” 

You have said that to us before, cousin,” said Charles, 
who, entering the first, was alone ^welcomed by this confi- 
dence ; but don’t worry ! There must be something else.” 

There was something else, in effect, and Philom5ne did 
not seem to suffer from indigestion, for, in spite of her 
recent emotion, she gave proof of a fine appetite. Masson, 
who was placed opposite to her, looked at her with a 
certain curiosity. She had not an ordinary face, certainly; 
the expression of her physiognomy, which was very 
changeful, being sometimes sour, sometimes quite open 
and expansive, totally modified her features with a clear 
and very decided sweep ; so that frequently in an hour’s 
time, one would see before them, not one Philomdne only, 
but quite a collection of Philom^nes. 

Well, Masson,” said Charles, wdien the omelette had 
disappeared, what are they doing at Paris?” 

Walking on the Boulevards during the day, going 
into cafes, and in the evening going to the theatre,” replied 
Masson, with the beatified air of one who no longer 
accomplishes any of those duties whatever. 


134 


philom^:ne’s marriages. 


What are they playing at the theatres?” asked Charles. 

The 3000th of Macadam en pate and the 495th of 
Hurluberlus/^ replied the actor, crossing his arms. 

^‘Always the same things ? ” 

Always.” 

What do they do without you at your theatre?” 

They replace me, in what I play ! I appear in the third 
act and I say to the figurants : ^ By heaven, my lords ! 
you have done a sorry task ! ’ Then I pass my sword 
through Gadoreau’s body, you know that little Gadoreau ? 
and I go home — make myself a cup of tea and read 
your novels ! ” 

Marie laughed ; Philom^ne looked at her with a re- 
proachful air; she did not understand, but it seemed to 
her there was nothing to laugh at in that. Then this 
gentleman, who used ^^thee” and ^^thou” in speaking to 
Charles, played at a theatre ! Philomene had never been 
in one. 

^^And your mother?” asked Charles. 

She still curses me.” 

And still sends you money?” 

Of course ! But what she sends me is nothing in com- 
parison to what she spends in masses and tapers so as to 
make me return to the pale of the church.” 

^^And it does not succeed ? ” 

Not at all ! What would you have me do, once I 
returned there, eh ? ” 

^^You have still, then, the same artistic vocation?” 
asked Marie. 


philomI:ne"s ^mareiages. 


135 


I ? not the least in the world ! I never had any 
vocation ! Only my mother and my late uncle the Abb6 
wished to make me enter a seminary; I was seventeen 
years old ; I had finished my studies ; in order to be one 
with them I entered the Conservatoire; but I should 
never have thought of the Conservatoire except for the 
Seminary/^ 

^^That is curing opposites by opposites, according to 
the rules, said Charles : you are a great doctor, Masson/^ 

^^And you remain at the theatre, all the same ? asked 
Marie, smiling. 

^^What would you have me do? Where the goat is 
tied, it must browse ! the young man replied, philosophi- 
cally. Some day I shall inherit ten thousand francs in- 
come ; that day I shall Meave the boards,’ as they say, and 
go and raise cabbages.” 

Never ! ” said Charles ; you will never raise cab- 
bages ! It is not in your nature ! ” 

‘‘That’s possible! Well, then! I will install myself in 
a small house in the environs of Paris ; I will not raise 
cabbages there, I will marry, I will be a good husband, a 
good father, and all that follows.” 

“That is not my horoscope,” said Marie; “you will 
turn some heiress’ head who will marry you by force, and 
you will become a millionnaire.” 

“I am not conceited!” replied Masson, caressing his 
face with a complacent air ; “ I do not aspire to such high 
destiny !” 

They all laughed at the gesture, not at the words; 


136 


PIIILOM^iNE^S MARRIAGES. 


Philom^ne continued to stare at the young actor as she 
would have stared at the elephant at the Jardin des 
Plantes. 

No/’ continued Masson, I have another ideal ! I 
shall marry a young, amiable girl, not too clever, but who 
will know a little about cooking; she must bring me fifty 
thousand francs — for I am not rich enough for two — and 
then the little ones ! — I wish her to be pretty — ugly 
women are so horrid ! — and provided she has a good dis- 
position, we will be very happy!” 

^^Aurea mediocritas/^ said Charles. 

Exactly.” 

How old are you ?” 

^^Thirty-five, in a week.” 

That is the lovely age !” said Charles. was thirty- 
five two years ago, so I now find thirty-seven a still love- 
lier age.” 

Masson and Madame Verroy laughed; Philom^ne, who 
was still serious, looked at them, and asked herself from 
what menagerie all these persons, whom until now she 
had deemed sensible persons, had come ! 

What an odd thing, the ideal is!” said Charles. 
remember when I was twenty I dreamed of finding a 
blonde with black eyes, small and coquettish, with the 
graces of a child; I carried that ideal about for some years 
in every corner of France ; and then one fine evening I met 
Marie, a brunette, tall and innocent as a girl who has 
never looked a man in the face ; I fell in love, and — you 
know the rest ! ” 


PHILOMJ^NE^S MARRIAGES. 


137 


The moral of which story/’ said Jlasson, in a didactic 
tone, ^^is, that one must not have an ideal !” 

^^On the contrary,” Marie said, eagerly, ^^one must have 
one, and change it ! One has thus the pleasure of com- 
parison ! ” 

Our friends laughed heartily : Philom^ne smiled vaguely. 

And you, Madame,” asked Masson, politely, what is 
your opinion ?” 

Oh ! I, Monsieur,” answered the widow, with ease, I 
have no opinion. A poor, ignorant peasant like myself 
should listen to others and keep silence ! ” 

Voildi ! ” thought Charles. Now a chill will fall.” 

A chill did fall upon them, in effect, and the repast 
ended less gayly than it had begun. 

9 


138 


PHILOMfiNE^S MARRIAGES. 


CHAPTER XV, 


GRATUITOUS ADVICE. 


HEN they had left the table to go into the little 



V V garden, that was invaded with grass, full of 
shadow and of sunshine sifting through the branches, 
Masson approached Madame Verroy. 

Perhaps I hurt your cousin said he, with the kind- 
ness natural to his character. Suppose I try to repair my 
foolishness? But tell me how I could have hurt her; for 
I do not know at all, I assure you.’^ 

^‘Philom^ne is whimsical,’^ Marie answered him. ^^She 
has had great sorrows ; she has borne them in a worthy 
manner; we do not get angry with her about her small 
caprices ; after so much trouble, it is natural she should 
be a little soured.’’ 

In a few words, Madame Verroy made Masson ac- 
quainted with the events of Madame Cr^pin’s life, and the 
good fellow began to pity her with all his heart. 

^^Does she love you?” he asked Marie. ^‘She seems 
very devoted to you.” 

^‘She gives us proofs of her friendship all the time,” 
the young woman answered. think our advent has 
been of great benefit to her, by withdrawing her from the 
gloom in which she was plunged.” 

^^If she loves you,” said Masson, will love her, too; 


philomJ^ne’s marriages. 


139 


for Charles and yourself are the best people in the world. 
Vive ! cousin Philom^ne ! 

Marie left him, and Philom^ne immediately approached 
her cousin. 

^^Have you talked about me?^^ said she to her; ^^what 
did he say to you ?” 

Without minding the incongruity of this question, 
Marie related in a few words the preceding conversation. 

‘^He has an excellent heart,^^ she added, in speaking of 
Masson ; you love us, and he loves us ; I believe you 
will soon be very great friends.^^ 

Philomene pressed her cousin^s hand. 

How kind you are ! said she, with effusion. After 
a short silence, she continued: ^^What an odd woman 
that Madame Aubier is! She does not stand on much 
ceremony, to have sent you her great stupid of a god- 
daughter, like that ! 

^‘Virginie? Why, we find her delightful, in every 
way. On the contrary, it was a very gracious attention 
on the old lady’s part. The strawberries were a hundred 
times better brought by that pretty girl I ” 

^^Pretty!” answered Philomene, vivaciously ; ^^do you 
find her pretty ?” 

Extremely pretty, with her great, soft eyes, and her 
modest smile.” 

^^A large, round face, that expresses nothing ! ^ said the 
widow, with bitterness; ^^a great mouth, and eyes like an 
owl’s. Heavens ! how can one find anything attractive in 
Yirginie Beuron? And then, she is so stupid ! Are you 
going to encumber yourself with that girl?” 


140 


philomI:ne’s maeriages. 


She did not seem stupid to me/’ answered Marie, in a 
graver voice than usual. She seemed to us to possess a 
happy nature and a good character.” 

She says everything she thinks ! ” Madame Crepin 
exclaimed, inconsiderately. 

Well, perhaps that is a merit,” replied Madame Verroy, 
rather curtly. Then, fearing to have offended her cousin, 
she added, with sweetness ; I have remarked, Philomene, 
that you have very unreasonable antipathies ; you make 
monsters to yourself of things and people, often without the 
least motive. I understand that the trials of your life 
have made you distrustful ; but that is no reason why we, 
who have no cause for being suspicious, should espouse 
your antipathies without examining them. Virginie is an 
honest girl ; you have said nothing but what was good of 
her before ; you were pleased that we should receive her 
here in the intimacy that our country life authorizes.” 

^^You are quite free to receive whom you wish, my 
dear,” answered Philomene immediately, with great sin- 
cerity in her voice and look. ‘‘Certainly those people are 
honest persons, and there is nothing to say against them, 
only I had imagined that people like yourselves must know 
what beauty and cleverness are ; and I never should have 
dreamed you could have found either one or the other in 
Virginie, that is all ! If I had been told so, I would have 
sworn to the contrary.” 

“ Well, my good friend, you would have been mistaken, 
and that proves once again that one must swear to nothing.” 

Philomene smiled, half honey-like, and half like vine- 
gar, and then spoke no more of retiring to her tent. 


philomI:ne’s marriages. 


141 


CHAPTER XVI. 

A TRUMP-CARD. 

/COUSIN said Philom^ne, the following Sunday 
afternoon, whilst Masson was struggling over a 
water-color sketch of La Heuserie, and V erroy was watch- 
ing him, and criticising all he did with the free and easy 
manner of those who ignore everything about art. 

^^Well?^^ replied the young man, without moving. 

Masson, you are making your tree too green ! ” 

^^It is green, however — the deuce! I cannot make it 
red ! replied the actor, looking for colors on his porcelain 
palette. 

^^No, not red — but it is not necessary to make it 
emerald-green.” 

That is true ; I will find another shade.” 

Cousin, pray excuse me,” said Charles, turning round, 

am at your disposition.” 

Philomene, who had awaited patiently the end of the 
preceding dialogue, sat down on a stone step opposite to 
Verroy and began her attack. 

Cousin, do you understand business?” said she, in a 
high, clear voice. 

^‘That depends, cousin, on what you call business,” 
Verroy wisely replied. 

Money affairs, cousin ; affairs that do not go on well 
by themselves.” 


142 


philomJ:xe’s marriages. 


Money affairs, cousin, go on well, rarely, by them- 
selves. However, I think I understand you, and I will 
answer that I have had in former times some contests with 
publishers, editors of newspapers, and even with a land- 
lord a short time ago, who wished to make me pay six 
thousand francs for reparations in an apartment, costing 
two thousand francs a year, that I had taken in a bad 
condition and inhabited six months. A thousand francs a 
month for repairs ! But I paid him nothing whatever, 
and I learned in that affair a certain knowledge of busi- 
ness — of some kind of business.” 

^^That is what I require, cousin,” Philom^ne replied, 
graciously ; she was determined not to allow herself to be 
nonplussed. I have some debtors at Paris who will not 
pay me ; what shall I do to obtain my money ? ” 

Charles meditated for an instant, and with his finger 
pointed out to Masson on his paper a portion of a wall 
that was falling into the brook in an alarming manner. 
The young man made a sign with his head, took a 
plumber’s line, made a gesture of thanks to his friend 
with his left hand, and applied himself to re-establishing 
the equilibrium of his architecture. 

^^Are your debtors tradespeople?” Charles asked 
Philom^ne. 

Yes, cousin.” 

She told no falsehood ; her only debtor was a trades- 
man, and his debt was insignificant. 

‘^Apply to the Tribunal of Commerce.” 

^^At Paris ? ” 


philomI^ne’s marriages. 


143 


^^Apparently ! ’’ 

Philom^ne sighed. 

poor widow is much to be pitied/^ said she ; if one 
intrusts lawyers, notaries and others to settle difficulties, 
they manage together so well that the sum is eaten up 
before the affair is ended.^’ 

It is the common fate,^’ said Charles. 

If I were rich,^^ continued the widow, I would let 
those credits go, they will certainly give me more trouble 
than they are worth ; but I am not rich, and I cannot let 
them be lost/^ 

Masson, growing impatient at the confidential tone the 
conversation was taking, hummed in a low voice the words 
of the “ Cantonnier ; 

fa prouve que les malheureax 
SHls sont malheureux 
Eh ben, c'est malgri euz ! 

Philom^ne continued, immovably : 

You see, cousin, I sold a while ago the house and the 
cattle on the farm I inherited from my father ; the new 
farmer bringing all the material for cultivation : I received 
half of the money, and I am to receive on Saint Michaers 
day two thousand two hundred francs — 

Masson, who was surprised, turned round suddenly. 
He had thought, with her more than plain clothes, her 
peasant's manners, her hard hands, and her ugly little 
linen caps, that Philoraene was a poor relation to whom 
the Verroys offered hospitality in order to lighten her 


144 


PHILOMi^NE^S MAHRIAGES. 


expenses ; but a farm that was worth nearly five thousand 
francs implied a large farm. Was Madame Cr^pin rich? 
What did her complaints then mean ? 

^^That will go to pay for the liquidation of what I 
inherited from my husband/^ continued the impassible 
widow, although her cat-like eyes had clearly understood 
Masson’s gesture; ^^but I need a few hundred francs 
more, and the money owing me at Paris would have 
furnished them very timely if the people would only 
pay me.” 

Charles, who was much bored, had a great desire to 
go away, but as such impoliteness would have been too 
flagrant, he contented himself with rising and taking two 
steps towards the water-color drawing. 

^^Land, you see, cousin,” continued Madame Cr^pin, 
is all very fine on paper — it is easy to say — ^ I have 
sixty thousand francs in good land — ’” 

‘^Have you as much as sixty thousand francs worth?” 
asked Charles, seized with a huge desire to tease Philom^ne. 

^^Yes, cousin; but if I wished to sell it, I should not 
get the half of it. You know that land, when one wants 
to buy it, is worth a great deal ; but when one wishes to 
sell, it is worth nothing at all. And then it brings in 
hardly three per cent., and from farms still less. Ah ! I 
have a great deal of trouble to make both ends meet ! So 
that I absolutely need to have my credits paid. Can you 
not undertake my procuration for me, cousin ? ” 

! no ! ” exclaimed Charles, with all the energy of a 
restrained feeling that gains utterance. No, indeed! You 


philom^ine’s marriages. 


145 


must not be angry with me, cousin, but I would be too 
much afraid of spoiling your affairs by putting my hands 
in them.^^ 

^‘Then I shall have to go to Paris groaned Philom^rie. 

“ That seems to me the most sensible thing to do.^^ 

Madame Crepin remained thoughtful for a moment. 

Living is so dear in hotels,’^ said she. I wonder if 
I would not do better to give it all up ? 

I thought Marie had asked you to come to us,’’ said 
Verroy, decidedly, in a bad humor. 

^^How kind you are, cousin!” exclaimed Philom^ne. 

I shall never forget all you have done for me. But,” 
added she, I do not know whether I can decide to take 
that voyage. I dislike Paris so much, that I never wished 
even to pass through it. Once I had to join my husband 
at Bordeaux — well, I went through the centre of France 
solely from horror of Paris.” 

What has Paris done to you?” asked Masson, desirous 
of changing the conversation. 

^^It has done nothing to me. Monsieur. I dislike it, 
that is all!” 

Cousin Philomene has some justifiable aversions,” said 
Charles, smiling a little, very little. 

Philomene looked at him she had not understood, but 
she smiled also. 

do not know whether I can overcome my repug- 
nance. I will think about it; meanwhile I thank you for 
your kind invitation. I should never have been bold 
enough to have asked you what you offer me — ” 


146 


philomI:ne’s marriages. 


Pass, ball thought Masson, ^^the trick is over. She 
is very clever, all the same.’^ 

^^But,’^ continued Philom^ne, ^^if I can be of service to 
you in anything whatever, pray make use of ine.’^ 

Thanks, cousin,’’ said Charles. And he added in petto: 
had to thank her as usual, or else we would never have 
had done with it ! ” 


PHILOMilNE^S MARRIAGES. 


147 


CHAPTER XVIL 

FATE GRANTS US WHAT WE DESERVE. 

your cousin rich, then?^’ asked Masson, when, 
-L the evening having come, Philom^ne had left La 
Heuserie. I thought her as poor as Job ! 

She is the owner of this house, my dear fellow, and of 
many other things besides! I believe her to be much 
richer than she wishes to acknowledge ; and what seems 
clearly proved to me is, that she is extraordinarily 
avaricious 1 

It is an excusable whim,’^ said the young man ; if, 
excepting avariciousness, she is good and devoted, as you 
will not suffer from that defect, you can easily pass it over. 
How old is she?^^ 

‘'About forty.’' 

"Only as much as that? I would have given her 
five or six years more; that woman is no longer of any 
age.” 

" She thinks, however, of marrying again,” said Charles, 
maliciously, who kept a grudge against her. 

"Oh ! Charles,” exclaimed Marie, "you know very well 
that she denies it all she can ! ” 

"Yes, my dear, but I begin to know her; the conver- 
sation of a little while ago made a bushel of scales fall 
from my eyes. She denies precisely what she is deter- 


148 


PHILOMi^NE^S MARRIAGES. 


mined to do. She will marry Lavenel — unless she finds 
something better ! 

hope/^ ended Masson, ^^she will invite us all to the 
wedding ! 

Don’t count on that! they will be secret nuptials — 
without any wedding invitations — the witnesses alone will 
be admitted, and, moreover, they will make them swear 
never to reveal the bride’s age ; for better precaution there 
Mdll he cotton balls prepared, and every one will be obliged 
to put them in his ears — and by the way, Masson, could a 
marriage be declared null, should the four witnesses to it 
be attacked with despairing and confirmed deafness?” 

I know not, my friend ; perhaps there is material in 
that idea out of which to make a drama for the Ambigu — ” 

^^Or a vaudeville for the Palais Royal !” 

Masson took a cigar from his pocket, lit it, and remained 
thoughtful a moment. 

^^Are you thinking of the Palais Royal?” his friend 
asked him. 

^^No, I was thinking of Mademoiselle Virginie — it is 
Virginie you call that pretty girl? She must have a 
Paul?” 

do not know; I believe not. Have you heard, 
Marie, of a Paul whatsoever spoken of for Virginie?” 

No ! She is difficult to marry. Can you imagine an 
alliance between that amiable child and a coarse man, who 
drinks and swears?” 

It makes me shiver,” said Charles, in a calm tone. 
^^Are there no other persons in this country except people 
of that stamp?” 


philomI^ne’s marriages. 


149 


my friend, it is considered a merit. A land- 
owner would be laughed at, who did not know how to 
swear properly, and drink a great deal of brandy in his 
coffee ! 

^^It would be a murder exclaimed Masson, warmly; 
^‘Virginie deserves another fate, and she will have it: 
first, because one always has the fate one merits.^^ 

^^Do you believe that?^^ 

Firmly 

^^And the women who are cut in pieces — have they also 
the fate they merit ? 

“ The women who are cut in pieces,^^ Masson repeated 
slowly, while seeking an argument, ‘Hhat depends; among 
the quantity, there have certainly been some who deserved 
it; women who have exasperated their husbands, for 
instance, and then — no, I think those are about all.^^ 

‘^Then there were some who did not deserve it?^* 

It must have happened so.’^ 

Well, then ! what do you do with your theory?’^ 
What one does with all theories, my friend ; they are 
put aside when one has no longer any need of them,^^ 
replied Masson, knocking off the ashes from his cigar; 
theories have no other utility 


150 


I»HIL0M^:NE’S MARRIAGES. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


ANXIETY. 



IHE sun had disappeared behind the valley, and the 


“L moon displayed in the heavens the delicate form 
of its slender crescent. A penetrating coolness had suc- 
ceeded the heat of the July day, and the twilight was 
gliding softly under the trees, invading first the corners, 
that became of a deep and velvety blackness, then the 
cavities in the stones, the underside of the cornices, the 
trunks of the beech trees, the. bed of the green and mossy 
stream, and the open windows, that seemed bottomless 
abysses. The fading light still floated on the house- 
roof, in the clumps of verdure, that appeared gilded 
with a reflection of the sun, on the gray fayade, that 
looked white, and where the groups of lichens made 
large spots whiter still — indeed, almost radiant in the 
half-light. 

^^Your lichens are superb,^^ said Masson, regarding 
the rich clothing that ornamented the poverty of the 
stones. 

Would you believe that Philom^ne wished to have 
them scraped oflp?^^ answered Charles, in an indignant 
tone. She declares they eat away her house ! 

What does that matter,^^ the young man said, phleg- 
matically, provided it is pretty ? 


philom^:ne’s marriages. 


151 


my dear fellow, it is a calumny — lichens never 
eat away anything ! They take nothing from stones or 
trees, and just see all they add in color and richness ! I 
nearly said something rude ! 

To the lichens 

^‘To Philom^ne! There is one who has not poetical 
feeling! Can you imagine, now, workmen scraping the 
stones and cleaning the stream ? It would be like reno- 
vating our poor obelisk of Luxor again ! That was one 
of the sorrows of my life ! It seemed to me, when I 
saw it cleaned, that it was quite naked, and that it felt 
ashamed ! 

^^You love stones too much,” answered Masson, 
will be the ruin of you I” 

«Why?” 

Because you will build, and that is the death of a man ! ” 

Build ? No ! But I should have liked much to have 
bought this little house.” 

What prevents you ?” 

Philomdne does not wish to sell it.” 

^‘Well, my friend, do without it. Eesignation to the 
evils we cannot prevent, is one of the principal virtues of 
humanity.” 

Charles, who was a little disturbed by the souvenir 
of his griefs against Madame Cr^pin, was walking up 
and down the court-yard; suddenly he stopped: the gate 
had opened, and in the increasing shadow he saw two 
women coming toward him, whom he at first did not 
recognize. 


152 


pniLOMi;:NE^s maphiages. 


^^Good-evening, gentlemen,’^ said Madame Aubier’s 
voice. We arrive late, do we not?^^ 

^^Dear Madame, is it you?^^ said Marie, running 
towards her. You are welcome here ! 

They entered the house; a lamp was brought in and 
they all saw that the old lady looked very fatigued. Vir- 
ginie, who was almost as pale as her godmother, watched 
her with eyes full of tenderness and anxiety. 

^^But why so late, so far away?^^ asked Marie. 

went out this afternoon,’^ said Madame Aubier, 
speaking with difficulty, ^^so as to take Virginie a walk, 
who has not many distractions. My husband was dining 
at the Preceptor’s; we were alone. We came this way, 
with the intention of surprising yon. I have not been a 
good walker for a long time. Near here, at the beginning 
of the road, I was taken with a fit of asthma ; it has not 
happened to me for many years. I thought I was going 
to die.” 

Marie hurried away, and returned bringing something 
calming, which they made the old lady take at once. 

You should have come here for help, since you were 
not far oS*!” said Charles to the young girl. 

^^My godmother did not wish it — she was afraid of 
dying while I should be away; and, to tell the truth, I 
preferred not to leave her,” replied Virginie, growing pale 
again at the memory of that moment of anguish. 

Madame Aubier had recovered her strength a little. 

^‘She was very much frightened, the poor little one,” 
said she, ^^and I also, to speak frankly; but more for 


philom^:ne’s marriages. 


153 


her than for myself. What would she have done all 
alone? 

The old woman trembled, and Virginie, in a moment 
o.^ impulse, forgetting the presence of strangers, threw 
herself on her knees, her head buried in Madame Aubier’s 
bosom, and let her tears overflow, that were stifling her. 
Her godmother placed her hand on her hair. 

^‘Poor child, poor child said she, several times, 
caressing her tenderly. She has no one to love her but 
myself; her father has no thought for her, and she is very 
much attached to me!’^ 

Marie approached the young girl, took her by the wrist, 
raised her, and said to her in her ear : 

You will do your godmother harm!’^ 

Immediately, with a violent effort that brought back 
the blood to her pallid cheeks, Virginie raised her head, 
dried her tears, and sat down by Madame AubiePs side, 
whose hand she held in hers ; but her grateful look sought 
out Marie with the sweetness of a caress. 

^^This is not all,^’ said the old lady, must return 
home. I have come to ask you to accompany me there. 
Monsieur Verroy, for I am afraid of being taken ill again 
on the way, and it must not occur twice with Virginie 
quite alone.^^ 

We will all go with you,’’ replied Marie. We will 
take lanterns, and wrap you up well, Madame Aubier.” 

^^All?” repeated the old woman, looking at Masson, 
who, overcome with a sudden interest in these simple 
people, and about these very ordinary events, regarded 
10 


154 


philomene’s marriages. 


it all with the eyes of a man who would much like to be 
useful and does not know what to do. 

Madame, certainly; we will not be too many to 
escort you.^^ 

Marie brought shawls and two lanterns ; and Madame 
Aubier, leaning on Verroy’s arm, left the house slowly. 
Virginie wished to support her on the other side, but 
Marie put her away gently. 

^^You are tired,’^ said she to her; ^Mt is ray turn. 
Masson, offer your arm to Mademoiselle Beuron.’^ 

Masson rounded his elbow, but the young girl refused 
it politely. 

have never taken a man’s arm,” said she to him. 

I would not know how to do it, and it would annoy me 
in walking.” 

The young actor said to himself, that one rarely meets 
a young girl who has never accepted any one’s arm, and 
this reflection inspired him with a fresh respect for 
Virginie. 

They walked side by side in the narrow path, a little 
behind the others ; and Masson felt his heart full of pity 
and warm sympathy for the poor little one, who had only 
her godmother to love her. An indifferent father ! — that 
is sometimes seen : and to have a selfish step-mother 
often occurs; but to possess neither brothers, sisters, nor 
near relations, nothing but the affection of an old woman, 
whom Death might carry off from one moment to 
another! He drew nearer to Virginie. 

^^You are going to remain with Madame Aubier, are 
you not?” he said to her, without any preamble. 


philomene’s marriages. 


155 


I was to have returned to my father’s house in two 
weeks/’ she answered, quite as simply. But, since god- 
mother is ill, I can easily obtain permission to remain 
longer.” 

Masson felt himself wonderfully happy at this prospect, 
to which he probably would have been indifferent the day 
before. 

^^And then you will come to see us?” said he, gayly. 

^^If godmother is ill, I cannot leave her!” Virginie 
answered. 

Masson’s joy vanished suddenly, and he became serious. 

The pace of those preceding them grew slower and 
slower. Madame Aubier’s strength began to fail. Hap- 
pily, they were approaching Di^lette. They walked a 
hundred yards more, and just as they were coming out on 
the square, Marie called Masson. 

Take my place,” said she, in a low voice, quickly!” 

Hardly did the young man have time to put his arm 
around the old lady before she lost consciousness. A 
moment of confusion followed. The door opened, how- 
ever, and, borne by the two men, Madame Aubier was 
placed on her bed. They sent for her husband and an 
old, retired physician, who practised no longer, except for 
his pleasure and the welfare of the inhabitants of the 
village; and after a certain time, that seemed long to 
every one, the excellent woman opened her eyes. 

‘^It will be nothing,” said the physician. ^^It is a 
syncope, caused by the fatigue of the preceding attack, 
and then the walk ! The deuce ! Madame Aubier, you 


156 


philomI:ne’s marriages. 


have not your fifteen-year-old legs any longer. You 
should not run about like that ! If it were a gallant you 
were going to meet, you should have told me. I am nice 
enough yet ! 

He laughed, and stroked his chin ; but as soon as he 
had passed the threshold he assumed an anxious look, and 
drew Madame Verroy aside. 

I have not the honor of knowing you other than by 
name, Madame,^’ said he to her; ^^but you seem to me to be 
the most sensible person there is here. One cannot count 
on old Aubier ; first, because he has just been dragged away 
from his dominos, and he hasn^t his wits about him yet, 
and then, even in his normal state he is not extremely 
lucid ! Virginie is a child — can you pass the night here?^^ 
Certainly,’^ Marie answered. Is there any danger 
There is always danger when a person is liable to 
smother from one minute to another; but with careful 
watching there will be much less. Will you remain 
Yes, doctor, I will stay.” 

^^Send away your gentlemen ; we have no need of them. 
There are always too many men in a house where there 
are sick people. Men, you see, are only useful in hos- 
pitals, because women have taught them how to nurse.” 

Y erroy and Masson, finding they were to be sent off to 
La Heuserie, declared they would not go so far; they pro- 
cured two beds at an inn, and promised to appear at the 
slightest call. 


PHILOMiiNE’s MAKRIAGES. 


157 


CHAPTER XIX. 


A PRETTY PICTURE. 


T daybreak the door opened softly, the maid went 



out to get some milk, and the two young men 
slipped into the house. Marie went to meet them, holding 
a finger to her lips. 

‘‘Everything is going on well,’^ she said; “she passed 
a good night. Don’t wake Virginie.” 

“ Where is she?” asked Masson. 

Marie pointed to the open door of the drawing-room. 

Amidst disordered things, and furniture moved from its 
place, with a table-cover under her head in guise of a 
pillow, Virginie was sleeping on a sofa, dressed, and 
covered with a shawl. Her lips, slightly opened, displayed 
her white teeth ; her long eyelashes threw a dark shadow 
on her cheeks ; and two braids of hair, that twined 
around her neck, fell on her clasped hands. She looked 
sad, and one could see that she had wept before going to 
sleep. 

Verroy peeped in at the door, and regarded the young 
girl with a father and artist’s eyes; the simplicity of 
the scene. Virgin ie’s sadness and beauty, touched at 
once both his heart and his love of art ; Masson, seeing 
him motionless, ventured to advance his head in the 


158 


philom^:ne’s m a rei ages. 


same direction, and was struck by the sight. Marie, who 
had left them to go into the kitchen, returned just as a 
slight movement of the sleeper made one of her beautiful 
tresses fall to the ground. She drew Masson back by the 
skirt of his jacket. 

‘^Will you have done?^^ said she to him, in a low 
voice ; should a man look at a young girl sleeping ? You 
ought to feel that you steal something of her innocence 
from her.^’ 

But,” muttered Masson, bewildered by her speech, 

Charles looked at her ; and then she is so pretty.” 

Charles is married ! It is not the same thing. And 
then he was wrong to do so. Come away, both of you, my 
good friends.” 

She drew them outside, and shut the drawdng-room 
door.” 

‘^What shall we do?” asked Verroy; I am very 
hungry.” 

You will take a cup of milk, and then return to La 
Heuserie, where the lamps have been burning, and the 
windows open all night.” 

^^So much the better,” Masson said, philosophically, 

the oil will thus have left no odor ! There is nothing 
that smells worse.” 

While our friends were partaking of some excellent 
cafe au lait, seated before the kitchen table, Virginie ap- 
peared, timid, and with her eyes, that were still full of 
sleep, dazzled by the daylight. She rubbed her eyelids 
slowly with the back of her hand, and seemed only half- 


PHILOMJ^NE^S MARRIAGES. 


159 


awake ; she had gathered u[) the tresses of her hair, how- 
ever. She said good-morning to the young men, with a 
sweetness full of gratitude, and wished to busy herself 
in fulfilling the common duties of hospitality towards 
them ; but Marie objected, and waited on them herself. 

But I have not sat up all night, Virginie tried to 

say. 

Madame Yerroy imposed silence on her by kissing her 
forehead, and made her sit down to her breakfast. 

^^Oh, Madame! said the young girl, carrying Marie’s 
hand to her lips, which she afterwards pressed to her eyes, 
full of grateful tears. 

Marie held the young girl’s head softly to her warm 
heart, that was void of maternal happiness, and Virginie 
felt at once that she had another friend who was as tender 
and as true as her godmother. 


IGO 


philomI:ne’s maeriages. 


CHAPTER XX. 

PRIVATE THEATRICALS. 

rriHE sun penetrated the large, clean, bright kitchen 
JL in great floods of light, leaving its rays every- 
where— on the brass saucepans, that were more brilliant 
than gold ; on the pastry-moulds, that looked like th6 tiaras 
of Assyrian kings; on the enamel of porcelain, and the 
varnish of faience; on the small, soft rolls of bread that 
W'ere gilded with the yolk of eggs; on the bright golden but- 
ter, and the vine-leaf forming its casket. The happiness of 
the new day seemed to be united to the returned health of the 
mistress of the pleasant place, and our guests, individually 
as well as collectively, were declaring they had never tasted 
such good cafe au laity when the door opened, and the tragic 
nose and melodramatic eyes of Theodore Lavenel entered. 

He bowed to the assemblage with the air of a man who 
is not in the least astonished, and who knows exactly how 
things are happening; then,addressingVirginie alone, with- 
out being wanting in politeness for this reason to the others : 

^^Ah, my dear Mademoiselle!^^ he said, ^^how much 
anxiety you must have had ! I heard of the accident last 
night just as I was going to bed; I did not take the liberty 
of coming here — his ominous eye gave a look at Masson, 
as though to say to him, Caught ! ’’ — for I know too 


PHILOMiiNE’s MARRIAGES. 


161 


well that a stranger is in the way on such occasions ; but I 
thought of your sorrow all night long, and I could not 
close my eyes.^^ 

Virginie, without knowing why, felt hurt at this speech. 
Lavenel would have done better not to have spoken of 
strangers in the presence of those who had just proved 
themselves so helpful. She was not used to the polite 
falsehoods of civilization ; she ignored everything about 
the great art of annoying people without giving them a 
right to be angry, but her natural frankness served her 
admirably. 

If it had not been for these gentlemen and for Madame 
Verroy, my poor godmother would probably have died on 
the road, Monsieur Lavenel,^^ she replied, simply. Think 
what cause we have then for blessing their presence.^^ 

Lavenel bowed to the right, hand and to the left, with 
the air of a man who desires to be amiable, no matter what 
it may cost. 

^^And,^^ continued he, with angelic sweetness, ^^will 
Madame and these gentlemen have the kindness to con- 
tinue their good offices towards your poor godmother?” 

‘^As long as they will be necessary. Monsieur Lavenel,” 
Marie replied, curtly. ‘‘1 beg your pardon, but I am 
going up-stairs.” 

With a very slight bow to the intruder, she disappeared 
on the stairway. Masson looked at Lavenel with curiosity 
— that odd creature, who resembled at the same time a 
sacristan, a bailiff^s clerk — and a little, but very little 
— a small provincial tradesman, amused him extremely. 


1G2 


philomI:ne’s maeriages. 


His comedian’s instinct urged him to something malicious. 
He arranged his face so that it resembled the flour mer- 
chant’s. He tied a foulard silk handkerchief, plaited in 
small folds, around his neck, making a rosette and two 
little ends in front; he drew his hair over his brow and 
on his temples, enlarged his waistcoat, drew up his sus- 
penders, put his hands in the pockets of his jacket, that 
seemed suddenly to have become limp, and did it all with 
a series of movements that were so natural that no one 
had perceived him. 

Lavenel, turning towards the young girl, after having 
bowed to Madame Verroy’s back, found himself face to 
face with his prototype; by having buried his chin in 
his cravat, Masson had succeeded in imitating the flour 
merchant’s profile. Utterly amazed — for the man he saw 
in front of him did not in the least resemble the one he 
had seen a short time before — Lavenel looked twice at the 
new face. Masson, who remained impassible, looked at 
him also with the same astonished air. 

Then our disconcerted hero lifted his eyes upon Charles, 
who with great trouble kept serious. Happily for the 
sanity of Philomene’s lover, the latter had not changed 
his appearance, and in order to avoid the consequences of 
the mystification, he hastened to ask some commonplace 
questions of the bewildered man. 

While he was answering them, Masson had reassumed 
his usual appearance, and when Lavenel, who w’as much 
disturbed, turned to look at him again, he only found before 
him the young actor whom he knew. Incapable of explain- 


PIlILOMi:XE^S MARRIAGES. 


163 


ing this metamorphose to himself, the poor, astonished man 
became so confused in what he was saying, that he ended : 

Mademoiselle Virginie, I leave quite at your 

service.^^ 

Masson hastened to open the door for him, and Lavenel 
drew aside a little, so as not to touch him in passing. I 
believe if a holy-water fount had been there, he would 
have sprinkled him with holy water; but there was none 
at hand, and Lavenel found himself in the street without 
having exorcised any one. 

What is the matter ? Virginie asked, seeing the two 
friends fall back in their chairs laughing convulsively, and 
trying to stifle their merriment in their handkerchiefs, for 
fear of disturbing Madame Aubier. 

Masson — Verroy tried to say — Masson — showed 
him how he looks.^^ 

^^And, as he is not handsome, it frightened him,’^ con- 
cluded the actor. 

Virginie looked at them alternately, without under- 
standing them. 

Masson at once reproduced LaveneFs type with more 
perfection than the first time, for practice spoils nothing, 
and gave the young girl a bow so faithfully modelled after 
the unfortunate absent man’s, that, in spite of her anxieties, 
she could not help laughing in her turn. 

He takes me for the devil ! ” the young man said as 
he put his foulard handkerchief in his pocket and looked 
like himself once more. 

Perhaps he is not wrong,” said Charles. 


164 


philomene’s maeriages. 


^^Iii that case/^ Virginie said, smiling, ^^you would be 
a good devil, Monsieur.’^ 

Surprised and charmed, the young man answered her 
smile; the warm sympathy he had felt for her the day 
before rose from his heart to his brain like a breath of 
spring air, and he opened his lips to say something that 
he decided to keep to himself. 

Come ! said Charles, who had taken his overcoat ; 
^^come, we will go and put out our lamps if they are 
still burning. We will return soon to hear how things are 
going on ; au revoir, Mademoiselle.’^ 

revoir, and thanks,” said Virginie, placing her 
brown hand in Verroy’s. Masson extended his — open — 
towards her; she hesitated an instant, then put the ends of 
her fingers in it, and withdrew them at once, with a 
fugitive blush on her face. 

tantdt/^ said Masson, almost in a low voice. 

The door closed upon them very softly, so softly that 
they pushed it to see if it were shut ; then they took the 
road towards their home. The air was strong and pure ; 
the tranquil bay was deep blue ; the cliffs of Aurigny shone 
'white in the distance, illumined as they were by the rising 
sun. Our friends walked for a moment in silence, with the 
rapid and elastic step that the freshness of morning inspires. 

When they had passed the last houses of the village, 
Charles remarked that his friend had a much more pre- 
occupied look than usual. 

^^Of what are you thinking?” said he to him softly, so 
as not to disturb his reverie rudely; those who dream 


philom^:ne’s makeiages. 


165 


often know how harsh and unpleasant seems the voice 
that throws you suddenly into reality. 

^^How beautiful is innocence Masson answered in 
the same tone of voice. In cities, my dear fellow, one 
has not an idea of it ! The best brought-up little girls have 
all taken some small boy^s arm ! 

Well said Charles, who could not follow the current 
of his friend's thoughts. 

Well ! that Virginie, who has never touched a man’s 
arm — it touches me, yes, Charles, it touches me ! And then, 
too, when your wife scolded us, because we had looked at 
her asleep — your wife was right ! She has a noble soul and 
an honest heart ! She was right, pardieu ! ” 

Surprised at this dithyrambic speech, Charles looked at 
his companion more attentively, and found that he wore a 
serious and impressed look that one rarely met on his face, 
and only on great occasions. 

^^What is the matter with you?” said he to him; ^^you 
do not seem in your ordinary frame of mind.” 

^^What is the matter with me?” answered Masson, 
enthusiastically. I am surprised at it myself; Charles, 
my friend, I believe I am in love! Oh! Virginie, the 
truly named ! ” exclaimed he, extending his arms towards 
Di^lette, that shone brightly in the sand below their path, 
it is your purity that has conquered me.” 

He was in joke, but the trembling of his lips showed a 
deep emotion. 

^^Let us sit down,” said he to Verroy, pointing out a 
large stone to him. I do not know what is the matter 


166 


P^ILOM^:NE^S MAERTAGES. 


with me ; it seems to me I am drunk, and that in my eyes 
there is a sun that blinds me. A young girl, my friend, a 
real young girl ! You do not know, you cannot know 
what that means to an actor! He plays every night with 
an ingenue forty years old, who leads a life that makes 
electric lights pale before it ! We are taken to the theatre 
to play the part of small boys, in emotional plays, with 
little girls to whom the devil has nothing more to teach — 
children who reveal things to one that even we would not 
dare to think of ; and behold, on a lovely July day, on the 
beach, on the cliffs or on the road to La Heuserie, one meets 
a young girl twenty years old, fascinatingly beautiful, 
made like a nymph, gentle, good and clever, and who 
knows nothing of life 1 nothing 1 Who has always walked 
alone in her pathways, who has only dreamed of her god- 
mother, and whose cheek is as virginal as her heart. Do 
you understand what I feel, Charles?^’ 

understand it,’^ Verroy replied, gravely; ^^but you 
must not become lyrical, my friend. Do you want to 
marry her?^^ 

Ah I certainly I want to do so ! I wish I were a 
niillionnaire, so I could cover that adorable creature with 
diamonds, and make her the queen of the world.^’ 

‘^You would render her a very bad service. She is 
charming in her obscurity, but the full glare of public life 
would not suit her, perhaps. Besides, we have not got as 
far as that. Can you marry her now?” 

sighed Masson, regretfully, ^^you break the 
wings of my dream ! No, I cannot many ! One cannot 
marry with what I earn at the theatre.” 


PHILOMi:NE’s MARRIAGES. 


167 


They set forth walking again, both of them in silence. 
After a second Masson said to his friend : 

You think it is not serious, because it has come too 
suddenly. Well ! I declare to you, it is serious. Now, 
that I love her, all other women displease me ! She pos- 
sesses what none other can offer me — the charm of purity ! 
Listen : a little wdiile ago, when I held out my hand to 
her, and her fingers scarcely touched me, I felt it was the 
first time she had touched a man^s hand ! That woman 
shall be mine, only mine, or I will use all my resources 
in vain ! 

Wait a little, to see if it will last,’^ continued Charles. 
^^As soon as you have returned to the theatre, you will 
think no more about it.^^ 

^‘The theatre? Thank you! Ah! Velontine, Cold- 
Cream, and Champaka — the royal perfume — I am dis- 
gusted with you forever!’^ 

^^We will see!’’ said Verroy, unmoved. ^^If you still 
think of it three months hence, we will talk of it again.” 

^^Ah! if I were rich!” muttered Masson, between his 
teeth. But I do not even dare to wish to be rich ! It 
would be wrong in me! Come, my dear fellow, mean- 
while we will paint some water-colors, alid try to sell 
them ! ” 

Paint as many as you like; my laziness is content in 
watching you; I imagine it is I who am working.” 

But instead of painting water-colors, Masson stretched 
himself out at length on a mat in the court-yard, and, 
with his face turned towards Heaven, dreamed all day 
of Virginie! 


168 


philomene’s marriages. 


CHAPTER XXI. 


SAD COOKING. 


0 WARDS mid-day a sharp nose and yellow hair 



-L made their appearance at La Heuserie, accompanied 
by a basket containing some fresh fish, morning eggs, and 
a little roll of fresh butter. Masson awakened from his 
reverie, profited by the liberty that country life authorizes 
— to lean simply on his elbow and inspect the new-comer. 

thought,’^ said the latter, approaching softly, ^^that 
probably you would have nothing to eat.’’ 

do not know,” the actor answered, indifferently; 
believe Verroy is boiling some potatoes, for we could 
not find any knives: we are alone.” 

‘‘So I learned,” continued Philom^ne; “and I came to 
bring you something better than my cousin’s potatoes — be 
it said without wishing to blame him.” 

“ He is not clever at cooking,” said Masson, with the 
same indifference towards human things; “but it is all 
the same to me — I am not hungry.” 

“ I am not a good cook either, but I am going to try to 
awaken your appetite,” said Philomene, planted before 
him, and gazing at him with tender eyes. “You look 
very tired. Monsieur Masson; are you not ill?” 

“I? No! a thousand thanks, dear Madame,” said 
the young man, finally deciding to rise. He stretched 


philom^:ne’s marriages. 


169 


himself without disturbing Philom^ne in her contem- 
plation, and went towards the house, which she entered, 
close on his heels. 

Charles had renounced endeavoring to make his potatoes 
boil ; sadly seated in the large fire-place on a small stool 
that served Marie in the cabalistic operations that preceded 
their repasts, he watched the water evaporating insensibly 
in the great gulf black with soot, and saw with regret that 
the water would soon be completely vanished, and that the 
potatoes would not be boiled. 

What are you doing there, cousin?^’ asked Philom^ne, 
entering. 

don’t know, ma foil nothing. I have been vainly 
endeavoring to procure some food. If you, at least,” 
said he to Masson, had come to help me, instead of 
dreaming of your love!” 

Masson made a warning, angry sign to his imprudent 
friend, whicli the latter feigned not to perceive. 

‘Mle dreams of his love,” continued he, stretched out 
on his back, and I struggle to make this pot boil, without 
succeeding. You see, however, there is a large fire!” 

Yes, but your pot has no cover to it; I think I have 
come very opportunely.” 

‘^You always come opportunely,” said Charles, gra- 
ciously, who was softened at the thought that he was 
going to leave his post for a good place at the table. 

‘^You arc very amiable, cousin! Here, Monsieur Mas- 
son, go and get some wine and cider, and return immedi- 
ately — everything will be ready.” 

11 


170 


PHILOMi:NE’s MARRIAGES. 


While the friends were in the cellar, Philom^ne upset 
the house so completely that in the twinkling of an eye 
the table was laid, and an hundred things were strewn 
about in all the corners; it was one of Madame Cr^pin^s 
peculiarities, that she overturned an entire kitchen to boil 
an egg. 

However, when the two men found themselves seated 
before a good meal, a feeling of very natural gratitude 
made them show a thousand kindnesses to her who had 
rescued them. 

foil cousin,’^ said Charles, when the coffee was 
smoking in the cups, ^^you have saved our lives! How 
one becomes spoiled, however ! When I was a bachelor, 
how many times I was obliged to prepare my own food ! 
Then, I knew how to go to work about it — but then 
years of marriage give one habits of laziness and com- 
fort.’^ 

“One must be very unhappy as a bachelor, is it not so. 
Monsieur Masson asked Philom^ne, rejoiced at their 
praises and rejuvenated by her joy. 

“ Phew ! that depends upon the way one looks at it, 
and also upon circumstances,’^ the actor replied. “In cer- 
taiii cases one is unhappy — especially as regards cooking 
and linen — but outside of those ‘two necessities of life, 
I do not see that one is so much to be pitied ! ” 

Philom^ne modestly lowered her eyes over her cup, and 
added a morsel of sugar to her coffee, in which she had 
already put two. 

“One is, however, much happier in married life,” con- 


PHILOM|]NE's marriages. 


171 


tinned she, turning round the liquid with her little spoon ; 

have had many sorrows in my life, but my happiest 
time was when the Captain was on shore, and I believe it 
must be the same with every woman who loves her hus- 
band.^^ 

Masson had a great desire to ask her if the Captain 
also considered his happiest time that which he passed 
with her; and if the good man had not been lying in the 
cemetery, the youiig actor would not have failed to ask 
her the question ; but he refrained through good-breeding, 
and contented himself with glancing at his friend from 
the corner of his eye; and the latter having understood 
him, gave him a kick under the table, and they began 
talking about other things. 


172 


PHILOMi:NE’s MARRIAGES, 


CHAPTER XXII. 

THE TALE OF A BASKET. 

T owards evening the young men returned to 
Dielette, accompanied by Philom^ne and her eternal 
little basket. 

It is with baskets as with men: some have a clean and 
common air; others seem to despise the vulgarities of this 
world and only open themselves for exquisite things : 
choice fruits, Julien’s cakes, Boissier’s bonbons, ribbons 
of delicate colors, and perhaps for a dear, almost imper- 
ceptible little dog; others are work-day baskets, made for 
going to market and bringing sorrel home, while another 
will only hold feathered and four-footed game; others, 
finally, are small, ugly, and with their plai tings badly 
made, revealing to all passers-by their owners’ secrets — 
and pray notice that the owners of such baskets would do 
far better if they were to keep their secrets to themselves ! 

Philomene’s basket was of the latter kind. Charles 
could not abide it, and Marie, in order to relieve her 
husband of the sight of so ugly an object, had bought 
her cousin another one. But Madame Crepin did not 
like her new basket ; she thought it common. 

It was made of fine black and white willow, and her 
frightful black basket she thought distingue, 

‘^It possesses, in truth, a rare ugliness,” Charles had 


philomene's marriages. 


173 


said. But he could not carry his point, and it was always 
the black basket that Philom^ne carried on her arm to 
and from Dielette. 

Charles had been watching it since the morning, and 
had said to himself it should be the unlucky thing’s last 
day; it was only necessary to make its tenacious owner 
forget it somewhere, and the rest would be a mere ques- 
tion of choice as to the means by which to make it dis- 
appear. But Philomene could have been caught without 
her purse sooner than without her basket, and our friends 
had the unhappiness, as they were leaving, of seeing 
Madame Cr4pin take it out of a dark corner, where prob- 
ably it had not put itself, and with magnanimous calm- 
ness hang it triumphantly on her arm. 

The afternoon was as lovely as that of the day before, 
but^the sun had not yet set; and from time to time the 
young men stopped to admire the tints on the sands, the 
sea, and the distant islands, M^hich looked like violet 
spots on an ocean of fire. Masson, who was under the 
influence of a new emotion, talked more and better than 
usual ; and in spite of his wish to the contrary, a re- 
strained lyrical tone lent to his conversation a something 
that was elevated and poetical, and which noble minds 
always surely feel. 

The people adore poetical enthusiasms; they do not 
understand them — but in the music of syllables — of 
certain sonorous words, and caring little for their meaning, 
they find a subtle charm, which has been the cause of 
giving us many ridiculous songs and many bad novels. 


174 


philom^:ne’s marriages. 


Philora^ne listened in admiration ; she thought the young 
man who talked so well, with such noble, graceful gestures 
— especially handsome. Masson was what is called un fils 
de famille, that is to say, a man of the world, who has 
received a good education ; moreover, he was an actor, and 
represented the various types of character in the novels 
Philomene had read. In the superb scenic effect made by 
the beach and cliffs, with the evening sky as a back- 
curtain, Masson gave the illusion of the finest drama to 
the ignorant woman, and his passionate voice, which was 
the echo of all he hid within himself, awoke chords in her 
heart that had been for a long time dumb, and others, 
too, that had never vibrated before. 

She had set down her basket in order to hear him, and 
with her hands crossed, she listened as though she were at a 
sermon — much better than at a sermon — when a movement 
of Charles made the object of his antipathy roll to the 
bottom of the cliff. The black basket turned over and 
over several times, and only stopped on the edge of the 
waves, that curled beneath, almost up to the rocks. 
The descent was only about thirty feet, and Charles 
regretted it was not three hundred, for Philomene, utter- 
ing a cry of sorrow, endeavored to run after the cherished 
object. 

^^Bah! cousin, leave it alone said Verroy, drawing 
her back by her skirts. ^^It is not pretty, it is worth 
nothing. You have another, and if you care for that one, 
I will buy you one exactly like it.^^ 

It was a fallacious promise, which he was quite deter- 
mined never to keep. 


philomene's marriages. 


175 


no!^’ exclaimed Philomene. I want that one, 
and I will have it ! My husband bought it for me at 
Bordeaux.^^ 

They make very ugly baskets at Bordeaux, then,^’ 
said Charles; but Masson, who was touched by Philo- 
in^ne’s hazardous efforts to descend the cliff, was already 
at the bottom of it, and brought back the precious treasure 
to its owner, who immediately expressed her great joy and 
gratitude to him. 

have no luck,^^ sighed Charles; but Masson shall 
pay me for this ! 

What?^^ asked the latter. 

JSTothing, my friend. You are a hero, and I admire 
you.^’ 

Madame Aubier was much better, and Marie was able 
to confide her, without anxiety, to Virginie’s care. The 
three friends returned to La Heuserie, while Philomene 
went to her home. 

She opened the door carefully, and, like a cat that is 
afraid of burning itself, ventured in the darkness as far as 
the fireplace; there she procured herself a light, then she 
placed her basket on the table, and sitting down opposite, 
began to look at it. 

The Captain had, in effect, bought the ugly thing at 
Bordeaux to hold some unexpected purchase he had made, 
and brought it back with him, as one brings home 
such chance acquisitions, because an ill-advised feeling of 
economy leads us to encumber ourselves with useless, 
disagreeable things, simply in order not to throw them 


176 


philomene’s mareiages. 


away when once we have paid for them. With Iier usual 
want of taste, Philom^ne found it useful and pretty, and 
from tliat time would have no other. Like the legendary 
knife of a certain Jeannot, who has remained unknown, it 
had changed its handle and cover many times, and in its 
successive metamorphoses had become dearer and more dear 
to Philom^ne. The Captain’s souvenir returned of itself 
in the presence of the basket, and his widow accorded 
him an honorable mention in her memory. Then, by a 
mysterious transition — and even by no transition at all — 
she began thinking of Masson, and a slight emotion made 
her heart tremble. With what grace had he descended 
the cliff, and with what kindness had he brought her 
back the basket, because she cared for it ! Thus think- 
ing, Philom5ne mentally threw a stone at her cousin 
Charles, who had shown such disdainful indifference to 
her feelings in that affair. What would she have said, 
good heavens! had she known the active part he had 
taken in the event? But she was always doomed to 
ignorance on this point. 

Yes, Masson was very kind — perfectly charming! 
Philom^ne, wuth her eyes still fixed upon the object that 
was the cause of so many dreams, recalled one by one her 
knight’s features. His complexion, his eyes, and his nose 
were the subjects of a retrospective investigation as minute 
as that of a council of revision, and Madame Cr^pin ended 
by saying to herself that the young man was very nice — 
very nice, indeed ! And then, he was so amusing ! Mon 
Dieu ! how amusing he was ! 


piiilomI:ne^s marriages. 


177 


She ignored, however, his taletit for imitating Theodore 
Lavenel ; but other drolleries were never wanting in his 
conversation, and Philomene, who did not always under- 
stand him, only admired him the more. Ah ! if Lavenel 
only had a character like that, instead of the cross dis- 
position nature had allotted to him in a moment of ill- 
humor! She could have been very ha|>py with a man 
with such a character; that was what she wanted. Winter 
evenings are so long, when people have nothing pleasant to 
say to each other. A husband who can tell stories, that is 
a happiness! The Captain used to tell stories, which 
was natural — he had travelled so much. 

But Masson’s stories were very amusing — especially so, 
because Philomene foi^nd an individual flavor in them; 
they introduced her into a new, fantastic world, wherein 
everything seemed extraordinary to her. How gay life 
would be with that man ! 

Here Philomene heaved a great sigh. 

Her thoughts took another turn. She was going to 
Paris: this was interesting. Paris, in itself, did not mean 
much to her; it was, after all, only a city like other cities 
— a few houses more or less, was the only difference. 
And then, she detested Paris; Parisians have a way of 
thinking everything is better done and nicer there, than 
in th provinces; now, there is not a being endowed with 
reason wdio does not know the contrary! 

First, perhaps she might recover her money; and then 
— and then, she would see Masson. Decidedly, slie loved 
him very much — and that was very natural ! And more- 


178 


philomi^ne's marriages. 


over, he resembled the Captain prodigiously ! All widows, 
whose hearts begin to beat again, find that the object of 
their flame resembles their defunct husband ; it is a well- 
known thing. 

Philom^ne’s candle was not of the best quality, and it 
was running sadly down in its socket, when the lady 
remembered she had not supped. To sup alone ! how dull 
it was ! She went towards the sideboard in a melancholy 
way, took a piece of bread and butter, and inflicted this 
frugal repast upon herself as though it had been a pen- 
ance. 

Not that she repented of her thoughts. AVas she not 
as free as air? But why had she been so stupid as to have 
allowed Lavenel to circumvent her? She was quite decided 
not to marry him, of course, but it was too much to have 
given him the right to say so. It was true this unscrupu- 
lous man had betrayed her ; it w^as agreed they should say 
nothing to any one, and he had spoken of it to everybody. 
His mother and himself might deny it as much as they 
pleased, but as Philomene had said nothing, therefore it 
was they who had tattled. But so much the worse for 
them ! They would only be the more ashamed, when she 
should declare they had invented it all; for, remember, 
there had been no witnesses. 

How ugly Lavenel was ! The more she saw him, the 
more did she find him disagreeable. And then, what w^as 
this habit he had taken of going to Madame AubiePs on 
all occasions? Did he mean to take up his summer 
quarters there? There was nothing to call him to that 


PHILOMi:NE’s MARRIAGES. 


179 


house, and Madame Cr6pin did not intend he should be 
seen there so often. It was true, since she had given him 
her promise, he had not come, perhaps, three times to her 
house, and he never left the one opposite. She would 
snub him as he deserved — in anticijiation of what he 
would inherit. 

Here Philomene began to laugh in the three stray hairs 
that ornamented her chin and served her for a beard, as 
she thought of the anticipated inheritance that would never 
come to anything: it was an inheritance en Espagne. 

This thought made her so happy that she went to bed 
with a novel of Ducray Dumesnil’s, that she put under her 
pillow at the end of ten minutes so she could find it there 
in the morning, for she was very fond of reading in bed 
early in the morning, before she began her day. 


180 


PHlLOMi:NE's MARIIIAGES. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

INDECISION. 

AM recalled!’’ said Masson, sadly, as he passed 
-L Charles a letter he had just received. 

*^Oh! already!” exclaimed the husband and wife. 
‘^Alas! my friends! I have been here more than a 
month, and have overstayed the limit of my vacation. I 
cannot complain. It is very hard, however, to leave when 
I am so happy!” 

It is very hard to have you go ! ” said Marie. 

^Ht is not you whom I pity,” Masson answered, after a 
short silence. ^‘You remain here together; while I go off, 
the devil knows where, and I take nothing away with me 
to console me.” 

^^Does that still last?” asked Charles in a low voice, for 
the inevitable Philom^ne was wandering somewhere about 
in the house. 

I was just saying to myself that it will always last.” 
diaries meditated for an instant. 

Well,” said he, return to your surroundings, to your 
occupations. In six weeks we will be at Paris; if you 
are still of the same mind, we will speak of it again.” 

Speak of it again? What would be the use of it? 
Would a provincial endowed with reason give his 
daughter to me? Would that kind Madame Aubier, 


PHII.OMiiNE^S MARRIAGES. 


181 


who loves me with all her heart, now that she is cured of 
her illness, give her godchild to me? I have neither for- 
tune nor position to offer her. And even were all those 
obstacles overcome, could I take that good, charming 
child behind the scenes in the evening, before the play 
began? And then I would be obliged to leave her alone 
all day while I rehearsed, and at night when I acted. No! 
it is impossible, perfectly impossible! If I only had four 
or five thousand francs income, I would come and settle 
here; I have seen some exquisite sites along the coast 
and inland; I would raise cabbages, as I told you, and 
I would never think of my theatrical life again. I would 
have done better to have entered the Seminary, after all, 
on my word of honor 1 

Quite discouraged, he let his arms fall on the table, and 
laid his head upon them. 

^^Come,’^ said Charles; ^^you must not get discouraged 
like that! All is not lost! And, besides, you always 
have La Trappe as a last resource. Answer me honestly ; 
have you ever spoken to Virginie about what you feel for 
her?^^ 

Masson arose suddenly. 

^^For whom do you take me?’^ said he, energetically. 

That child’s greatest charm is her innocence ; do you 
imagine I would wish to take from her the smallest part 
of that which forms her moral and physical beauty ? No, 
certainly, I have never said anything to her; I will never 
say anything since I cannot ask her to be my wife.” 

Marie held out her hand over the table to the young 


182 


PHILOMi:NE’s MARRIAGES. 


actor, who kissed it with the affection and respect with 
which his friend’s wife had inspired him for many years. 
Philomene, who always came in at the proper moment, 
witnessed this act of deference and was much astonished 
at it; such habits had not yet penetrated as far as Di^lette. 
What surprised her the most was Charles’ calmness, who 
had seen the effusion ; the charitable woman’s eyes glanced 
alternately from one to the other, until her cousin, wishing 
to put an. end to her perplexity, said to her : 

^‘Masson is going to leave us.” 

‘^Ah ! ” said Madame Cr^pin, who felt such a violent 
shock overcome her, that she was obliged to lean against 
the near wall to keep from tottering. ‘^Ah! so suddenly? 
without any warning?” 

was not warned that I should be recalled, dear 
Madame,” answered Masson, endeavoring to appear gay. 

I leave to-morrow at daybreak. What annoys me,” 
said he to Charles, ^^is being obliged to disturb you so 
early; but don’t trouble yourself about me; I will not 
need any breakfast — ” 

“You can breakfast at my house,” Philomene hastily 
said. “ By leaving here at six o’clock you will be at 
Di^lette at half-past six ; the diligence does not leave 
before seven. You will have time to take a frugal repast 
such as I can offer you.” 

“ But,” said Masson, “ I am afraid of disturbing you, 
and yet — ” 

“Accept,” said Marie, “ that is the best arrangement, 
for I could not get any milk early enough to give you any 
breakfast. Philomene has had an excellent idea !” 


PHILOMiiNE’s MAKRIAGES. 183 

This was all so simple that the arrangement was made. 
After dinner, Masson said he was going to bid Madame 
Aubier good-bye that afternoon,, in order not to awaken 
her the next morning. 

^‘Do you wish me to go with you?^^ asked Cliarles, 
seeing him take his Iiat. 

‘‘No, my friend, thanks; excuse me, if I confess to you 
that I would prefer your wife’s society.” 

Philomene opened her eyes wider still, but Marie was 
at once ready, and she saw them both disappear under the 
trees in the avenue. She then turned to Charles to say 
something disagreeable to him, but the latter was so pro- 
foundly absorbed in his journal, that it would have been 
necessary to have asked him a direct question to draw him 
from it. Madame Cr^pin preferred not to run that risk, 
and set forth wandering about everywhere, within and 
without the house. 


184 


PHILOMi:NE^S MARRIAGES, 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

SORREL AND TREFOIL. 

‘T^EAR Madame/^ said Masson, when they w^re 
beyond hearing distance, ‘^yoii will find me 
very absurd, but really 1 have a great desire to live a 
country life. Do you believe if I offered myself to father 
Beuron, as a farm -servant, I Avould have any chance, 
after seven years, of winning Virginie according to the 
patriarchal custom of the Hebrews ? 

Marie could not help laughing. 

Father Beuron would probably find you a very bad 
farm-servant,’^ she answered ; and he will have married 
his daughter before seven years.” 

Masson sighed ; which was, however, rarely his habit — 
but as he doubtless would have been the first to affirm, 
love ehanges the character. 

‘^To what saint shall I resort, then?” said he, in a 
melancholy tone. 

To Saint Patience: it is the one whose intervention is 
generally the most efficacious.” 

‘‘And, meanwhile, as you say, father Beuron will have 
married his daughter. Ah! if I had only hoarded up a 
few sou^^! If I had put in the foot of a woollen stocking 
all I have spent with — ! From to-day I am going to settle 
down and practise economy ; you will see what a savings 


piiilom^:ne^s mareiages. 


185 


bank we will break on New Year’s day. It will be my 
present to myself!” 

^^And you will hurry to spend it all in buying cigars, 
or a Japanese cabinet, or a little clay statuette — ” 

No ! I will begin to hoard so as to be worthy of 
marrying Virginie some day!” 

Is it serious, then ? ” 

Very serious.” 

Marie reflected a moment. 

I do not say that it is an absurd idea,” she then con- 
tinued ; certainly, I was only a country girl at the time 
of my marriage, infinitely less civilized than Virginie, and 
still Charles and I have been very happy ! ” 

Well, you see ! ” 

^^The misfortune is,” continued the young woman, 
^4hat Mademoiselle Beuron has some little fortune — ” 

‘^She?” exclaimed Masson, stopping suddenly. 

Why, yes ! Did you not know it?” 

She has some fortune ! Good-bye, then, to my dream ! 
I hoped she was poor. I said to myself, that the modest 
competency I will have some day, would give her 
pleasures she now ignores. But if she has some fortune, 
I am farther off from her than ever ! ” 

He had so despairing a look, that Madame Verroy 
took his arm, in order to bring him back to himself, and 
also a little to console him. 

^^Come!” she said to him, Charles is right. Try to 
return to the ordinary ways of your tastes and habits. 
Probably you will think no more of Di6lette and its 
12 


186 


philomI:ne's marriages. 


inhabitants in a month hence. If your fancy holds good, 
we will talk over it again.’’ 

‘^Will you help me?” said Masson, in his most per- 
suasive voice. 

I don’t know. We will talk about it again. That is 
all I can promise you.” 

Thank you, all the same ! What a misfortune ! — Mon 
Dieu! what a misfortune that she should be rich!” 

do not see that it is an irremediable misfortune,” 
said Marie, finally grown a little impatient with this 
discouragement. ‘^One still has at least the resource of 
being able to ruin one’s self, or to ruin one’s wife! It 
seems to me that is within every one’s compass !” 

‘^On what, then, would you have us live?” the young 
man continued, pitifully. 

^^That is a we that seems to me nicely placed,” said 
Marie. Fortunately, here are the houses full of atten- 
tive ears, or else you would find some other reason for 
which to be doleful.” 

Madame Aubier, who had almost entirely recovered 
from her attack, was struck with consternation on hearing 
of Masson’s proximate departure. 

^^What! you are going away?” said she. ^^And I, 
who imagined you would always remain here! And you, 
also — will you go away, too?” added the old lady, turning 
towards Marie. You will go away never to return here 
again, like him. It is really foolish to attach one’s self to 
people in this way; you only lay up sorrow for yourself — I 
had grown so fond of you all ! And, then, you have been 
so kind to me, and to the little one! Where is she?” 


PHILOMfeNE^S MARRIAGES. 


187 


Virginie appeared at the garden gate, with a handful 
of sorrel and trefoil in her half-lifted apron, and smiled at 
the visitors with a shade of embarrassment. 

Imagine!’^ said her godmother to her, ^Miere is 
Monsieur Masson, who is going awaj!^^ 

The sorrel and the trefoil descended gently down her 
apron and fell on the ground, and the young giiTs rosy 
cheeks turned white with a pallor that gradually overspread 
all her face. Masson arose hurriedly to gather up the green 
leaves strewn over the granite threshold. Virginie leaned 
half over to prevent him, but a sudden weakness benumbed 
her members, and she was obliged to renounce the effort 
she had endeavored to make. She held her apron open, 
in which the young man replaced the green -herbs, without 
hastening much, however. They did not speak to each 
other — they did not touch each other ; and yet so many 
eloquent things were exchanged between them, while, 
with one knee on the ground, he picked up the prosaic 
sorrel, that Madame Aubier became quite serious. 

What?^^ said she, turning suddenly towards Marie. 

The latter replied by a slight sign with her head. 
Falsehood was not in her way, and Madame Aubier had 
every right to know about what concerned her adopted 
child so closely. The old lady became grave, and con- 
tinued looking at the pair on whom a bright summer sun 
was shining. 

When the last bit of trefoil had joined the others in 
Virgiuie’s apron, Masson, leaning on his knee in order 
to raise himself, lifted his eyes towards the young girl. 


188 


PHILOMiiNE^S MARRIAGES. 


It mattered little to him that they saw him ; he did not 
seek to make a mystery of his honest feelings. She read 
in his look, doubtless, all that he meant to put in it ; for, 
with a slightly oppressed voice, she answered : 

Thank you, Monsieur.^^ 

Then she passed slowly before him without looking at 
him ; but her gown brushed the young man^s bended 
knee, and she blushed. With the same quiet step, as 
though she were overwhelmed, she crossed the room 
and went into the kitchen, of which she shut the door. 
When she was alone, she shook out the sorrel mechanically 
on the table ; then she threw her apron over her head and 
began to weep, not knowing why. 

Masson had arisen. He approached the old lady, and 
sitting opposite to her, took both her hands in his. In a 
few short and hurried words, he told her all his past and 
present life, his position, his hopes, of the new feeling 
that had overcome him, and which threatened to transform 
all his existence. He said he was ready to do anything 
that was asked of him, provided the young girl would be 
the reward of his labors. 

^^And,^^ he added, love her because she is as innocent 
and pure as her name ! It is not for her beauty, great as 
it is ; it is not for her fortune — I was unaware that she 
possessed any ; it is not for her grace and her affection for 
you, which has touched me above all : it is the virginal 
charm of her whole self; it is her candor ; it is — 

He stopped, feeling he could not define what had 
moved him. It was so ethereal, so ideal an impression. 


philombne’s maeriages. 


189 


that it defied words, and could not be uttered in speech ; 
but Madame Aubier understood it, and approved it with 
a sign of her head. 

^^Then, have you never said anything to her?^^ she 
asked, with so authoritative a manner that it might have 
seemed surprising in the old, common-place woman, did 
not the dignity of maternal feeling ennoble all that it 
approaches. 

^^How could I have spoken to her?^^ he answered, 
warmly; it would have been taking something away 
from her charm. Here, before you, just now, I was on 
the point of so doing, and I did not dare to do it.^^ 

Madame Aubier remained silent. 

^^And you belong to the theatre? she finally said. ^Ht 
is astonishing ! I thought you w’ere an artist, and painted 
water-color drawings ? 

That, dear Madame, is a pleasure ; the theatre is my 
occupation, and Heaven knows I would willingly change 
it for another.^^ 

It is very strange,’^ the old lady continued, that it 
should be Virginie’s innocence that has fascinated you ! I 
should have thought that, in the life you lead, you would 
care no longer for such things ! 

Madame Verroy will explain that to you,” Masson 
answered ; it would be too difficult to relate in so short a 
time. Say one kind word to me, Madame Aubier, though 
it may only be in return for my frankness.” 

You are an honest man. I say so to you from my 
heart ; you are a good fellow, and I feel a great deal of 


190 PHILOMi:NE’s MARRIAGES. 

friendship for you — all the more since a moment or two 
ago, and especially because I did not believe my old heart 
capable of feeling so much for a new acquaintance. In 
growing old, you see. Monsieur Masson, one mistrusts new 
faces; but, I do not know why, every one who comes from 
that house — she pointed to Marie — inspires me with an 
unlimited confidence.’^ 

‘‘ I will not make you repent of it,” said Masson, much 
overcome ; but about her, dear Madame, about her ? ” 

^^Ah, my friend, she does not belong to me ! And, then, 
what guarantees can you offer her family? I do not 
know, I would ask nothing better, but — it must be seen 
into ; you must wait. And supjiose she should not wish 
to have you ? ” 

Masson, who was bewildered for a moment, suddenly 
regained his courage. 

‘^She? Dear Madame, if, after the pain she felt just 
now, Virginie could love any other man than myself, she 
would no longer be the divine creature I have dreamed 
her, and I would be cured of my love at once.” 

He smiled in a chivalric manner, and seemed so certain 
of his lady’s honor, that the two women exchanged a 
glance, and smiled also. 

I promise you,” said the old lady, to do nothing 
to harm you. For the present, ask nothing more of me; 
there are too many things to be weighed and reflected 
upon, for me to be able sincerely to promise you more.” 

I understand and thank you,” said the young man, 
rising. It was already a great kindness on your part not 


PHILOMiiNE’s MARRIAGES. 


191 


to liave turned me out of doors, when you learned that I 
played at the theatre. But I do hold to it, you know ! I 
will enter some office, where I can scribble on paper as 
uselessly as any other one, provided only you will not ask 
me to return to the Seminary 

His gayety and his courage had returned to him at the 
same time. He threw a glance towards the kitchen-door, 
and Madame An bier understood it. 

Virginie,^^ said she, in a loud voice, ‘^what are you 
doing 

I am preparing the soup, godmother,’^ answered the 
young girFs voice, a little veiled by her recent tears. 

The three friends looked at each other; the voice opened 
new horizons for Masson’s hopes. 

^^Can you come and say good-bye to Monsieur Masson, 
who leaves for Paris to-morrow morning?” 

The response was long in coming ; evidently the young 
girl did not dare to confront her guest’s looks, with her 
sad face, and her red eyes. 

Excuse me, godmother, I cannot,” she at last answered, 
in a feeble voice, and as if with regret. 

I adore her,” said Masson, in a low tone, carrying the 
old lady’s hand to his lips; esteem her more and more 
for her modesty and her angelic timidity. She has been 
weeping — she is weeping still. She loves me, Madame 
Aubier, no matter what you may say. She loves me, and 
does not dare to see me again, since she knows I love 
her. Tell her — No! you do not wish to tell her any- 
thing? She will know it without any one’s speaking of it 
to her. She will know that I carry away her image with 


192 


PHILOMi:NE’s MARRIAGES. 


me, to preserve me from the follies of my life; to teach me 
that one may be perfectly good and honest without having 
ever learned it in books. She will know, above all, that 
unless I was determined to overcome all things in order 
to obtain her, I would not have made her precious tears 
flow — unless I were a miserable wretch, and I am not 
that, Madame Aubier ! ” 

The old lady took his head in her hands, and kissed 
him on his brow with the warmth of a loving grand- 
mother; then she pushed him aside at once. 

Go away ! said she, go away ! You will make me 
lose my good sense — go! Madame Verroy will write to 
you. May the good God keep yon ! ^ 

Masson left at once. Marie rejoined him almost imme- 
diately; she had only taken time to exchange two words 
with Madame Aflbier, and those two words were encour- 
aging for the young man. They took the road towards 
La Heuserie without speaking to one another. Each of 
them was overcome by deep feeling — the young girFs soul 
seemed to float above them, and to inspire them with an 
almost sacred respect. 

How all this changes a man ! said Masson, at length, 
following the thread of his thoughts. did well to come 
here. I go away better than I came. I owe to you the 
happiness and the honor of my life.’’ 

^^Not to us ! ” said Marie, smiling. 

To you ! It is the example of your life with Charles, 
that has inspired me with serious thoughts; be sure, in 
many cases, the feelings one experiences are the eifect of 
one’s surroundings. To have changed me like this, it 


philomI:ne’s marriages. 


193 


needed this simple life, devoid of all artificial element; 
it needed the sight of your happiness and your domestic 
peace; and then this superb sea, this enchanting country, 
your little modest, almost poor house, these honest people, 
free from all artifice — I might have seen Virginie at your 
house at Paris, and probably I would not have noticed her, 
and certainly not loved her. But here it is the Age of 
Gold — every one is good here ! 

Excepting Philora^ne,^^ said Charles’ voice, who had 
come to meet them, and whom they had not seen. 
‘^Imagine,” said he to Masson, that she is afraid you are 
in love with my wife ! ” 

Our three friends burst out laughing together. 

Do you think she believes it ? ” Masson asked. 

She pretends to believe it, at least, perhaps in order to 
make me think so. Since you left, she has not kept still, 
in any place; she wandered around with anxious eyes, 
going from the house to the gate, and returning to me 
with the look of a poodle who is begging to have a bit of 
wood thrown in the water for him to bring back. She was 
mad to come and meet you ; but I did not wish to give her 
that pleasure; she would only have found you conspiring; 
my misfortune would have been sure. Well ! and your 
affairs, Masson?” 

I adore her ! ” the young man answered. 

They were so merry that this answer made them all 
three laugh, and Philomene was heartbroken at the echo 
of their gayety, which reached her in the chimney corner 
whither she had gone to keep her grief warm. 


194 


PHILOMI:NE’s MARRIAaSS. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

NEW ASPIRATIONS. 

T he sun, hidden by the high hills, had not yet illumi- 
nated the fine sand of the beach when Masson left La 
Heuserie; he set forth with a joyful step; at a turning in 
the road he bade good-bye with his hand to the hospitable 
house that was still asleep, and descended towards the 
river’s bank. 

He left without feeling sad ; since the previous day a 
new man had been born in him, one more resolute, more 
calm, more worthy also. After the ten or fifteen years he 
had passed in the carelessness of a life that was but little 
severe, he hailed with joy the aurora of a new existence, 
and bent his neck, that had hitherto been rebellious, 
under the yoke of responsibilities with a willing heart. 
The thought of working, of saving, of living as a serious 
man, far from frightening him, held a large part in the 
love with which the young provincial girl had inspired 
him ; such conversions do not take place in a day’s time, 
unless the ground has been prepared beforehand, and if 
Masson had not been weary for a long time with an ill- 
assorted life that had no future, he would not have been 
so strongly impressed by the charms of a simple and 
almost austere existence. 

The young actor had just sufficient talent not to be 


PHILOMiiNE’s MARRIAGES. 


195 


willing to renounce theatrical life, and yet not enough ever 
to make an illustrious name; nothing was more natural 
therefore, than that some day he should become disgusted 
with an existence without renown, or any future; but 
the day might still have been distant, if chance had 
not thrown him in that out-of-the-way country, where 
civilization penetrates but very slowly, and where every- 
thing has retained a perfume of primitive simplicity. 

He knocked at Philomene’s door in a preoccupied way, 
and with a look of a man who accomplishes a duty; 
Madame Cr4pin opened it for him herself with her most 
gracious smile. 

You were not in a hurry to leave,’’ she said. You 
will scarcely have time to take a cup of milk ; they are 
already harnessing the horses to the carriage; but it is not 
yet loaded : sit down.” 

Masson seated himself with the air of a half-awakened 
man, who still dreams. Philomene’s home was not char- 
acterized to call him back to reality, for the strange objects 
with which it was peopled made one think of certain 
nightmares that have been illustrated by fantastic painters. 
His breakfast was very real, however ; and soon the noise 
of wheels completely restored him to the possession of his 
faculties. He rose to leave. 

No, no,” said Madame Cr^pin, retaining him with a 
gesture ; the carriage has only come to be loaded near 
here, but they will come to tell you when it is ready ; I 
have arranged it with the driver.” 

thank you,” said Masson, making a violent effort to 


196 


philomI:ne’s marriages. 


shake oflF his lethargy, and to appear amiable. ^^You 
think of everything.’^ 

Madame Crepin smiled with a feeling of superiority; 
indeed, she had thought of everything ! She had thought 
of asking Masson to her house in order to annoy, at once, 
both Lavenel, who would be jealous, and Madame Aubier, 
who had taken possession of the young man in a truly 
unseemly manner ! They would all plainly see in Di^lette 
that the Parisians found her nice enough to accept her 
hospitality whenever it pleased her to offer it! 

I think I shall soon go to Paris,” Philomene said, in 
a careless way, leaning on her elbows on one side of the 
table; ‘Sve will doubtless have a chance of seeing each 
other again there.” 

Certainly ! ” replied Masson, who was still preoccupied. 
He was thinking of La Heuserie, and said to himself that 
at that very minute the sun must be shining in a little 
window that he knew well in his room, that was, alas ! 
now empty. ^^If you are desirous of going to the theatre 
ever, I will have some tickets for you, dear Madame.” 

I do not refuse. Monsieur Masson ; you are very 
kind. Then in a month we shall meet again.” 

I shall be charmed to do so ; you are truly very kind 
to have disturbed yourself for me so early — ” 

Nothing is a trouble when it is a question of persons 
one likes and esteems,” the widow answered, in an affable 
tone. 

Masson bowed in silence; what should he reply? 
However the necessity of saying something urged itself so 


PHILOMilNE^S MARRIAGES. 


197 


imperiously upon him, that he was obliged to immolate 
himself. 

I sincerely hope that if you may have need of any- 
thing whatever, in which my services can be of use to 
you, that you will apply to me, dear Madame,’^ he said ; 

I have some leisure time ; I will be entirely at your 
disposition.^^ 

I thank you. Monsieur. I promise to remember your 
friendly offer when the chance occurs said the widow, 
with her grandest air. She felt herself a woman of the 
world at that moment. 

Masson thought the situation was dragging on to great 
lengths, when happily the driver came and gave, most 
unceremoniously, a great knock with his fist on the door. 

Where is the Paris gentleman?’^ said he. ‘‘I saw 
him pass by a little while ago; is he with you?’^ 

^^Here I ara!^^ said Masson, hastening to gather up his 
luggage. He was just leaving the threshold when he dis- 
covered Philomene^s right cheek before him; he did his 
duty, and deposited a country-like kiss on the obstacle. 
To his surprise, the left cheek presented itself in turn; he 
offered it an equal sacrifice, bowed, and found himself in 
the street with a certain feeling of relief. 

The carriage was waiting for him, and he was just 
getting into it when Madame Aubier’s door opened, and 
Virginie appeared on the threshold; leaving the door ajar, 
she quickly crossed the square, and a2)proached Masson, 
with her face covered with blushes, but without any 
embarrassment, feigned or real. 


198 PHILOMi:NE’s MARRIAGES. 

My godmother does not wish you to leave without a 
word of friendship from her/^ she said, in a low voice; 
^^she sent me to you to tell you she wished you all the 
happiness you deserve 

^^She told you to tell me that?’^ asked Masson, more 
overcome than the young girl herself. 

Those were her words, Monsieur; and I repeat them 
to you as she said them to me.’’ 

^^Your godmother is the best of women, and you — 
you are a good and kind young girl. Do not forget me, 
Mademoiselle!” 

No,” murmured Virginie, in a very low voice. No, 
I will not forget you 1 ” 

Philom^ne at her doorway looked at them with gleam- 
ing eyes. Masson had the courage to cut short a conver- 
sation that he would have given much to have been able 
to prolong. He held out his hand to Virginie, who 
placed her own in it, without trembling this time, 
however. 

‘^People kiss each other in the country,” said he to her; 
but I do not wish to kiss you, there are too many eyes 
looking at us. If any one ever says anything bad to you 
about me, do not believe it; do not believe anything 
against me — I — I — ! ” 

He let fall Virginie’s hand, and got into the carriage 
without daring to look at her. She returned to the house 
with her easy, calm step; and the door closed upon her, 
while the carriage started off. But just as it was going to 
turn the corner, he saw the curtain of Madame Aubier’s 


philomene’s marriages. 


199 . 


window raise, and the young girFs face appeared by the 
side of the old lady’s. He made them a respectful bow, 
which Philom^ne took as an answer to a good-bye she 
was telegraphing him with her handkerchief; and of that 
sojourn which was to make a new man of him, nothing 
more remained to Masson save the landscape before him, 
and a box filled with water-colored drawings. 


200 


philom^ne’s marriages. 


CHAPTER XXVL 

PLAN FOR THE FUTURE. 

y^NE feels all upset since Masson has left us; is it 
not true?^^ Charles asked his wife one day when 
it rained. ‘^When shall we leave?^^ 

‘^When you like, dear. To-morrow, if it would give 
you ])leasure ! 

‘‘Not to-morrow, hut let us see!’^ He counted on his 
fingers, and after rather a complicated mental calculation, 
he ended by finding a solution. “One can return to 
Paris with propriety on the twenty-fifth of August?’’ 

“ Certainly.” 

“ Well, we will return there on the thirtieth; that will 
give us about ten days more here, which is longer than I 
need for finishing my work.” 

“And for me, to arrange my little plots with Madame 
Aubier. You would never suspect what is going on! 
Lavenel is paying attention to Virginie!” 

“Lavcnel? I thought he was morally settled under 
Philomene’s law! Has he not been in love with her for 
sixty years?” 

“ I thought so, too, but Madame Aubier confided to me, 
under the seal of secrecy, that he goes to her house every 
day, while Philom^ne is here, and the days she does not 
come he takes great care not to appear there. That gives 
one food for thought ! ” 


PHILOMiiNE’s MARRIAGES. 


201 


! my dear, let others think what they like ! What 
does it matter to us ? I believe, ma foiy that one ends by 
liking gossip just from listening to it!^^ 

Marie went and laid her two hands on her husband’s 
shoulders. 

‘^And if Virginie loves Masson, must a creature like 
Theodore Lavenel be allowed to marry her?” 

Never in the world ! I will oppose it formally ! But 
does she love Masson ? ” 

She says nothing about it, and will never say anything; 
she is one of the kind who die of grief without opening 
their mouths, but her godmother is sure she loves our 
friend.” 

^^Poor little one!” sighed Charles. presume in 
fifteen days he will have forgotten her — ” 

My dear, you are cruel ! ” 

‘‘Well, let us say three weeks, then! However that 
may be, do you want a wise bit of counsel that will 
cost you nothing? Philom^ne is coming with us, is she 
not?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Never speak either to Madame Crepin or before her 
of Masson, or Virginie, or Lavenel, either collectively or 
separately. If she speaks to you of them, turn, your 
tongue in your mouth seventy times seven times, before 
answering her; be prudent, like King Solomon.” 

“ What do you suspect? You frighten me.” 

“I suspect nothing — ground failing me on which to 
build my suppositions — but I foresee that some day there 
13 


202 


philomMe’s makriages. 


will be a collision between those four persons, and if we 
wish to keep our friends, we must have our eyes open and 
not allow ourselves to be circumvented/^ 

‘‘By whom?^^ 

“ By Philomene. Do you wish to know what I think 
of her?’^ 

“ Certainly ! 

“Well, I cannot abide her 

Marie reflected for a few seconds. 

“ Do you wish me to get rid of her ; under some pre- 
text?’^ she said. 

“ No, indeed ! First, we owe her for the rent of this 
house, and since she will not let us pay her for it, we must 
do something to please her — in parenthesis, this is a lease 
that will cost us dearer than one at Trouville — and then, 
she interests me, this consoled Arthemesia ! She is not 
like everybody else. I am curious to see how it all will 
end!^^ 

“And then you say, you do not care for gossiping ! 
said Marie, laughing. “La Fontaine was right : 

connais mime sur ce point 
Bon nombre d’hommes qui sont femmes!* 

Nevertheless, I will go and pack our trunks.^^ 

“ Good luck, and much pleasure may you have/^ Charles 
replied, taking up his pen. 


philomI:ne’s maeriages. 


203 


CHAPTER XXVIT. 

A QUESTION OF TOILETTE. 

O X a fine evening in the beginning of September, in 
dust-covered Paris, that was brilliant with gas, and 
swarming with people. Monsieur and Madame Verrov, 
accompanied by Philom^ne and a maid picked up on 
the road, reached their home. The pleasant house, which 
this happy pair had chosen for their nest, had never 
before seen so many strange packages and eccentric things 
coupled together as it then witnessed. People who seldom 
travel have an especial gift for tying things together that 
are the least calculated to be united ; though they may bind 
the ephemeral unions solidly in packages rolled up in 
newspapers, they succeed only in producing anti-geomet- 
rical forms, that are misshapen, incommodious, and utterly 
incapable of being stowed anywhere in the world, and 
which at some moment invariably fall, collectively or 
separately, on one’s head from the net-work supporting 
them in- the railway compartment, or else roll between 
one’s legs under the seat. 

Philom^ne, besides an immense and very heavy trunk 
that was full of useless things, which she would never even 
unfold during her visit, had put the excess of her luggage 
in game-baskets of different sizes. The Parisian who, in 
spite of his reputation for cunningness, is simple-minded, 


204 


PHILOMi:XE^S MARRIAGES. 


imagines that game-baskets are only made to hold oysters, 
game, plants with their clods of earth about them — in a 
word, things that cannot be put in a close receptacle : it is 
erroneous ! the people of Normandy use game-baskets for 
carrying all sorts of things; which might explain why 
Marie, who was present at the unpacking of her cousin’s 
things, saw issue from several of these receptacles, under- 
clothes, a shawl, two pairs of boots, slippers, a comb, a 
mass-book, a casket, a heavy lorgnette, wliich was, truth 
to tell, nothing less than the Captain’s marine-glass, an 
indefinite number of stockings, and many other things 
too long to enumerate. 

What have you got in your trunk?” asked Marie, 
urged to this indiscreet question from the oddity of this 
method of transportation. 

^^My clothes, my dear!” Philom^ne replied, with an 
offended air. 

^^Ah ! very well. I did not know you were so well 
provided with things of every description ! ” 

Philom^ne smiled with a delighted look. 

I am not quite without resources,” said she, although, 
in reality, I am in a very precarious position as far as money 
is concerned. My late husband never let me want for any- 
thing, and I have enough with which to dress myself.” 

She only spoke too truthfully. The room Madame 
Verroy had allotted to her cousin w^as soon full to over- 
flowing with all the things which Philomene deemed 
necessary fi^r her to have for passing a month at Paris. 
The closets being filled, they were obliged to hang up 


PHIL0M^:NE’S MARRIAGES. 


205 


portmanteaux, and even these extended into the hall so 
numerously, that the next day Charles, on leaving his 
room, got his nose among Madame Crepin^s skirts, that 
were so strongly impregnated with pepper, tobacco, vety- 
ver, and other suffocating substances, that he sneezed for 
more than half an hour without being able to stop. 

It is a false cold, cousin,’^ Philom^ne said to him when 
she heard of the incident ; it happens to me twice a year 
' — when I pack up my winter things, and when I unpack 
them ; but it does not last as long as a real cold.^^ 

Thank heaven!’^ the young man replied, ^^you en- 
courage me, cousin ! But you ought to have unpacked 
your things at Di^lette a good two weeks before coining 
here ! ’’ 

Philom^ne put on her offended look, and Marie M’’as 
obliged to use at least one game-basketful of consoling 
words before she could win back a smile to her heartbroken 
visage. 

When peace was re-established, Madame Crepin asked a 
consultation with her cousin, relative to the woollen gowns 
that had caused the unfortunate nasal irritation at the 
Verroys’. The examination proved that nothing could be 
of any use, and the widow, looking more hurt than ever, 
sat down opposite her old clothes, letting her arms fall in 
a despairing manner. 

What shall I do?^^ she said, in a voice full of tears, 
am not rich enough to have some dresses, made that I 
shall only wear for a month ; for you know, Marie, when 
I return home, I cannot put on flounced dresses and all 


206 


PHILOM^iNE^S MARRIAGES. 


the rest of it. I am going to return, that is all ; it seems 
to me the only thing left to do ! ” 

Her distress touched Marie’s heart, who at once hunted 
in her wardrobe, whence she disinterred a black cashmere 
dress that was simple enough for Madame Cr^pin to wear, 
and sufiSciently modern not to make the passers-by in the 
street turn round to look at it. 

She brought Philom^ne this opima spolia of a new kind, 
had a dressmaker fit it to her, and for the first time in her 
life, attaining and going beyond her boldest dreams at 
once, the dear soul found herself in the folds of a dress 
with a train. 

A dress with a train ! Philom^ne Cr^pin in a dress 
with a train ! The inhabitants of Di6lette would all 
surely have laughed had they been allowed to contemplate 
the sight, for in no country more than in Normandy does 
dress distinctly define the line of demarcation between the 
different classes, and a more than ordinary courage or bold- 
ness is necessary to overstep it. 

Philom^ne did not feel herself quite at her ease at the 
thought that she was wearing a dress with a train, just like 
a fashionable woman ; she thought so, at least, not seeing 
herself in the glass, and besides, she was quite incapable 
of appreciating the difference there is in the way of drag- 
ging or letting one’s skirt flow behind one. 

This unhappy train was the cause of much grief to the 
little maid ; it could not be discovered through what 
miraculous means the sweepings that had been gathered 
up by daybreak, were to be found everywhere about at 


philomj^ne’s mahriages. 


207 


breakfast-time. Charles, who was annoyed by the daily 
repetition of this fact, ended, one morning, by scolding the 
poor maid severely, who took all the saints to witness in 
regard to the conscientious manner in which she fulfilled 
her daily task. 

It must be myself, cousin,^’ said Philom^ne, coming in 
like a Deus ex machind; I gather them up with the 
train of my dress as I walk about in the apartment in the 
morning, while she is doing up the rooms.^^ 

You should carry your train in your hand grumbled 
Charles, turning his back on her. 

Why do you dress yourself so early in the morning?’’ 
Marie asked, endeavoring to soften her husband’s rude 
frankness. I don’t wear such long dresses before twelve 
o’clock.” 

I am w’ell aware that I know nothing about city cus- 
toms,” Philom«^ne answered immediately ; ‘^a poor country- 
woman like myself cannot aspire to fine manners; pardon, 
therefore, the stupidities I may commit here. But, my 
dear friend, do you not remember that it was yourself who 
forbade me wearing ray country clothes here, so that I 
should not look ridiculous when people came to see you ? 
Persons come to see your husband a long time before 
eleven o’clock ; must I then appear ridiculous?” 

Renouncing trying to make any ideas enter so rebellious 
a mind, Marie answered ; 

Do as you like ! ” 

And Philomene continued dragging into all the corners 
the perverse sweepings, that were determined not to remain 
still. 


208 


PHILOMilNE’s MARRIAGES. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

A VISIT TO THE THEATRE. 

ASSON appeared during these domestic agitations; 



he went there almost every day, before or after 
breakfast, remained an hour, and left — rested, graver and 
better than ever. He strictly conformed to the programme 
he had traced out for himself at Dielette, and lived not 
like an anchorite, but as a man whose dream is elsewhere 
than in the life of the Boulevards. As far as appearances 
were concerned, nothing was changed. He might be seen 
at the same cafe with the same comrades, but he stayed 
there a shorter time, did not drink so much, and dis- 
appeared for entire hours together, which he passed, 
either at his own house, at the Louvre, or the library, in 
the calm and retirement of the reading-rooms or galleries 
that are so full on Sundays, so deserted on other days. 

I am good for nothing,^^ he said to Verroy ; I try at 
least to do nothing WTong.^^ 

But the time was not lost that he spent in those places. 
His reading, a little capricious at first, was selected by 
cliance from some book lying open on a table, whose title 
or print had struck him, and had become by degrees more 
methodical ; he had become interested in the history of 
Art, and applied himself to it energetically, in his walks 
in the Louvre as well as in his reading. 


PHILOM^:XE^S MARRIAGES. 


209 


It will probably be of no use to me/^ said he, but it 
is always that much acquired 

His comrades had hardly teazed him at all about his 
change, for he had not broken suddenly olF with his old 
habits ; he simply disappeared every day for a little 
longer time, so that one evening he heard some one say : 

We see nothing more of Masson. What has become 
of him?” 

And an acquaintance replied : 

^‘It has been so for a long time; it is nearly two years 
now since he retired from the world.” 

It had only been for about three weeks, but one is so 
soon forgotten when ties have such little stability, as such 
as these, that make absences appear eternal. 

He spoke but little of Virginie, not being able to find 
his friends alone for a minute. The implacable Philomene 
had taken possession of the Verroys, as though she had 
created them with her own hands. Charles, through 
many pretexts, escaped her; but poor Marie could no 
longer rid herself of this companion, who was as faithful, 
and who stuck as close as iSTesstis’ tunic. Philom5ne 
had determined to see Paris, wholesale and retail; and, 
making a pretext of her ignorance and inability, she made 
Marie take her to all the different places she wished to go 
— ^^vhich was no small thing to do. 

You have known, Parisians, the martyrdom of pioneer- 
ing country friends from the Champs Elys^es to the Place 
de la Bastille, who wish to see and learn everything about 
all things. You know what it has cost your light and 


210 


PHILOMflNE’s MARRIAGES. 


subtle brain to have to tell about historical facts, of which, 
perhaps, your knowledge is very imperfect ; to be obliged 
to give minute explanations about things of which you do 
not know the least word: and all under the pain of falling 
deeply in the esteem of people who are much more serious 
and much better instructed than yourself. You have taken 
a gentleman to the Jardin des Plantes, who gave a lecture 
on natural history to his children, saying as he pointed out 
the elephant who stretched out his voracious trunk towards 
you: ^^That pachydermatous animal is very sociable,^^ and 
the gamins behind you call your friend the pachydermatous 
animal. You have vainly tried to oppose the purchase of 
some horrible Tunisian jewelry, some abominable Hareem 
pastilles, that some well-intentioned aunt with doubtful 
taste has given your wife, saying to her: ^^My dear friend, 
I have brought you a souvenir from the Exhibition and 
your wife has been obliged to display the horrors tlie next 
day at a large dinner, or, if she forgets it, the good aunt 
makes her remember, gently and firmly, what is due the 
presents of a rich relation who is very fond of you. You 
have explained about a hundred things of which you do not 
understand an iota; repeated to them what you have seen 
in the journals in regard to the number of cubic mitres the 
captive balloon contains, making a mistake of several 
hundreds only; but all this is nothing in comparison to 
the martyrdom of taking about Paris, in ordinary times, 
some woman who wishes to examine everything, and who 
stops before the small, dark, linen-drapers^ shops around 
the Halles, to see ^4f they make caps there as they make 
them with us.^^ 


PHILOMilNE’s MAREIAGES. 


211 


There were no more bright and indefinable conversa- 
tions, that touched lightly on a thousand subjects, with 
implied words that every one understood ; no more long 
sesthetical discussions with Verroy’s friends! Masson 
found Philomene between himself and everything that 
Avas removed from the common-place. She seated her- 
self at his side, and took entire possession of him when 
it was possible, and when circumstances would not permit 
it, she looked at him talking, listening to him with her 
eyes as well as her ears ; as soon as he had finished she 
drew him towards her, as one draws a beetle, by pulling 
on the thread it has attached to its leg, and the poor man 
fell back into the dullest colored prose. 

He converses well,^^ she said one evening, after he had 
left to play in his third act. 

^^Yes, cousin, but you do not let him talk!’’ Charles 
replied. 

? How can you say so ? I listen to him all the time.” 

When he speaks of what interests you.” 

What do you expect? I am a poor, ignorant woman. 
I have never lived among clever people like yourselves ; 
it is not my fault if I am wanting in manners !” 

But she did not change her conduct. Why should she 
have done so ? It pleased her to keep Masson near her 
and to prevent his talking to others. The young actor 
seeing in this a proof of troublesome but real friendship, 
tried to please her as much as it was in his power, by 
bringing her all sorts of little gifts that Madame Cr^pin 
seized with avidity, and buried at once in her enormous 


212 


philomIjne’s marriages. 


trunk, that was a heavy and mysterious enigma, the key 
of which never left her. 

One night he took her to the theatre to see him act. 
Marie refused to go, first being too happy not to have to 
see again an uninteresting play that she knew by heart since 
a long time, and then at being able to pass a nice evening 
quite alone with her husband — a pleasure that had not 
been theirs for a long while. Without stopping about the 
question of propriety, a question which in this particular 
case could not be discussed, thanks to Philomene’s age, and 
the disparity of their positions, Marie dressed her cousin 
with her own hands, put one of her bonnets on her head, 
and sent her oif joyfully, with Masson as her cavalier. 

In the carriage which bore them away, Philom^ne 
showed herself but little communicative; Masson was 
obliged to undertake all the efforts of conversation, and 
with his customary generosity did not spare himself, so 
that they reached the theatre in a very pleasant frame of 

mind. Going to the ticket-office, he said to the Minos 
intrusted with the distribution of seats: 

^^Give me a nice little box for Madame, a relation of 

mine, who is at Paris for a few days.^^ 

Minos looked at Masson’s relation, and his glance 
clearly expressed a thought that might be thus translated : 
‘^your relation has a good style!” then he presented 
Madame Crepin a small, square, dirty card, which she let 
fall almost immediately. Masson hurrying to pick it up, 
W’as pushed from behind by a crowd of people arriving, 
and getting entangled in the train of Philomdne’s gown, 


PHILOMEXE^S MAKEIAGES. 


213 


nearly fell on his nose on the ground ; but by the help of a 
gendarme who stretched out his arm to him, the accident 
was avoided. 

This way/^ said the young actor, still laughing at his 
mishap. 

Philom^ne, looking very prim, followed him, con- 
fronted by the glances of the doorkeepers, who seemed 
to reproach Masson for the bad taste shown in this 
conquest, and she soon found herself installed in a dark 
baignoire two steps from the foot-lights, that blinded her. 

‘‘You will not be badly off here,^^ said the young man, 
when the door-keeper had noisily placed a small, high stool 
under Madame Cr^pin’s large feet, that were attached to her 
very long legs; “ I will return to you during the entr’acteJ^ 

“Are you going to leave me?^^ said Philom^ne, tenderly, 
and not a little anxiously. 

“To seek glory Masson replied, with a comic heroic 
gesture. “ I am obliged soon, in the third act, to say to 
the young rogues: ‘By heaven, my lords — ’ And how 
’I must go and see if everything is ready in my dressing- 
room. Imagine, the other day, some one put my large 
comb in one of Norvafs funnel boots, that he wears in 
the second act ; the unfortunate fellow pulled them on 
without looking inside of them, of course: when he 
reached the stage he felt something hurting him atro- 
ciously! It was impossible to take them off during the 
act ; and as he was about doing so in the entr^acte, they 
came and told him a lady was awaiting him at the con^ 
ciergds lodge: he flew there; it was only a trick. The 


214 


PHILOMENE^S MAERIAGES. 


bell for the third act rang ; he was obliged to appear on the 
stage, still suflPering dreadfully ; I all the while was hunt- 
ing for my comb ! I could not find it, naturally, and I w'as 
obliged to play without having my hair combed, which, 
by the way, did not make a good effect upon the public. 
After the play was over, Norval took off his boots, the 
doctor was €ent for, the poor fellow had his foot full of 
blisters ; some one put his hand carefully into the funnel 
and drew out my comb, broken in three pieces. Norval was 
not in a good humor, you may be sure — nor myself either.^^ 

A distant bell sounded behind the curtain. 
tantdt!^’ said Masson. 

He went away, leaving Philom^ne in a state bordering 
on distraction. The gas, the curtain with its hole, to which 
a new eye was applied every moment, the comb, the funnel 
boots — she imagined a tin funnel, with a spout and handle, 
such as one sees at wine merchants’ — all this whirled 
wildly round in her brain. Her small stool annoyed 
her, a chair placed behind her hurt her shoulder, and she 
did not dare to push these strange things away, that were 
put there for some purpose of which she was ignorant. 

People began coming in, and the theatre was filled with 
that particular sound, which is not either that of the roar 
of waves, nor the tumult of a marching day in a military 
station, but which in a manner resembles them both. 
The doorkeepers came in and went out with their rough 
vivacity, making the ugly deep pink ribbons on their 
dirty caps float everywhere, even as far as the front of the 
boxes. The sharp voices of the opera-^ass sellers 


philom^:ne’s marriages. 


215 


sounded at regular intervals^ like the croaking of an 
ominous crow; the instruments were being tuned in the 
way every one knows, and the base drummer, who was 
placed nearly at Philom^ne’s feet, after having gently 
touched the skin of his instrument, so as to assure him- 
self it was in tune, spread out an immense journal, that 
covered the two drums, and read attentively some bit of 
news that was printed in very small type, which made 
him bend his back over in an alarming manner, when 
suddenly the gas mounted half way up the foot-light 
chimneys, three knocks were heard from no one knew 
where, the drummer threw his journal suddenly behind 
him, and a short and formidable crescendo of all the in- 
struments, upheld by the rolling of the drums, ended in 
a frightful crash that made Philom^ne jump up with fear. 
The violins wailed a sentimental cadence, a loud noise of 
rolling scenes grated on her ears, while at the same time 
a current of cold, bad-smelling air struck her face, a 
black gulf opened before her, and strangely attired men 
ran hither and thither, like madmen, in the half-light. 
The curtain rose and the play began. 

Philom^ne had read some theatrical plays in a volume 
that had formerly fallen into the Captain’s hands, and the 
mysteries of entrances and exeunts were less incompre- 
hensible to her than for some others, who had never read 
“comedy plays,” as they say in the country; but one thing 
puzzled her so much that she nearly lost the thread of the 
drama, already rather mixed up in her mind: opposite 
to her, between tw^o side-scenes, of which she could 


216 


philomI:ke’s marriages. 


neither divine the name nor use, but which space she 
designated to herself as corridor/^ there were some 
lamps, and under these lamps persons in every-day dress, 
who did not seem in the least interested in what was taking 
place on the stage, three feet off from them. 

Placed as she was, Philom^ne was able to plunge a 
curious glance behind the scenes. 

AVhat was her astonishment at seeing suddenly one of 
the madmen, who was running across the stage pursuing 
another, catch him at the entrance of one of the corridors, 
pierce him through with his sword, and draw back with 
horrified eyes, while the other, the one who had just been 
killed, arose and vent quietly to talk with a gentleman in 
an overcoat, whom she recognized as Masson ! The tail 
of a white horse that appeared at the lattePs side made 
her entirely lose her head, and she threw herself back in 
her chair with the discouraged air of one who is struggling 
with something too strong for him, and who acknowledges 
himself vanquished. 

Torches were brought, the stage was lighted up, and the 
madmen disappeared after a general mUee, The white 
horse whose tail Philomene had already seen now entirely 
appeared, a beautiful lady got off it, and two lovers mur- 
mured phrases to her that were as long as they were tender; 
suddenly a gunshot was heard, the fair lady uttered a 
piercing cry and fell down before the prompter’s box — 
which was another puzzling mystery to Philomene — and 
the curtain descended amidst the groans of the violins, 
while one of the lovers raised towards the ceiling the 
slashed sleeves of his black velvet 'pouriJoinU 


PHILOM|]NE’s maeeiages. 


217 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

HOW TO EAT AN ORANGE. 

T he door of the box opened softly and Masson put his 
head through the opening. 

Well, how are you getting on?’^ said the good fellow; 
^ ‘^are you amusing yourself?^^ 

Certainly, Monsieur Masson ; it is very interesting.” 
For nothing in the world would Philomene have con- 
fessed that she understood absolutely nothing about it, and 
she put on a comprehending air. 

^^The young actress is very bad,” continued Masson, 
but it is not her fault ; she plays as well as she can. By- 
and-by you will see a superb scene, and then there will be 
a ballet.” 

ballet?” Philomene asked. 

Yes, with danseuses. It is very amusing, as you will 
see! dtantdt!^^ 

^^Are you going to leave me alone in this way?” Mad- 
ame Crepiii asked, in a tone of gentle reproach. If you 
would only explain the play to me a little I” 

^^Well, I do not act for an hour; I can stay for a 
little while. But don’t ask me to explain the play to 
you ! I have not seen it yet.” 

What I not seen it ? Why, you act in it ! ” 

I have seen the third act, in which I appear, but I 

14 


218 


PHILOMi:NE’s IMAERIAGES. 


have not even seen that entirely, because I leave before it 
is over; but the play is not good — it does not make much 
money, in spite of all they do to advertise it, and I have 
no curiosity to see it/^ 

A play ill which one acts and still has never seen, the 
advertising — all this appeared so strange to Madame 
Cr^pin, that rather than believe it, she preferred to doubt 
Masson’s veracity. 

Of course he spoke falsely in saying he had never seen 
the play, but it was only to make her think so in fun ; but 
this fact, far from diminishing the esteem Philom^ne felt 
for her hero, increased it greatly. She considered falsehood 
a weapon, and the art of using it a proof of strength. 

‘^That fellow is not stupid,’^ she said to herself; but 
I am more cunning than he.’’ 

Which was a sweet and comforting thought to her, 
if ever there was one. 

To prove her superiority, she asked Masson a number 
of questions, which, in her mind, went to show that she 
possessed an extraordinary knowledge of life and worldly 
ways. He answered with the good-nature that formed the 
foundation of his character, without making fun of or 
deceiving her, which was meritorious on his part, for the 
temptation to do so was a strong one. Then he offered 
her an orange, which she accepted with the gratitude a 
woman might feel to whom a charming man, whose name 
is printed on the play-bills, shows a mark of affectionate 
esteem in public. 

She peeled her orange — not very nicely, however, and 


PHILOM^:NE^S MARRIAGES. 219 

here and there tore away a part of the pulp with her 
fingers, that were rather clean, but which were terminated 
with nails that were not entirely so. This operation was 
performed on the lady’s pocket-handkerchief, that she 
spread over her knees. Her handkerchief w'as made of 
coarse linen, ornamented with a very fine, small red stripe; 
it had passed the day in Philomene’s pocket, together with 
a number of various things, and was not the nicer for it. 
When the massacre of the orange was over, Madame 
Crepin put two quarters of it back in the skin, and offered 
them to Masson. 

‘^Thanks!” said he, while a little sensation of horror 
ran over him ; I do not like oranges.” 

You say that in order not to deprive me of it,” she 
said, smiling in a way that would have softened a rock. 

I saw you eat some this summer at my cousin’s house ; 
do take it : all of it is not worth the half!” 

This phrase, which the widow had borrowed from some- 
thing she had read, left Masson defenceless ; he took the 
quarters of the orange, rose, pretended to look about the 
theatre, and pointing out to his too kind friend’s attention 
a lady wearing an extraordinary bonnet, he threw tlie 
orange behind his chair, and taking out his pocket-hand- 
kerchief, wiped his fingers and lips like a man who has 
just swallowed something very good. 

^^They are still a little green,” he said; ^^they will be 
better in a month.” 

Philomene threw him an expressive glance. 

In a month,” said the glance, I will no longer be 
here to eat oranges 1” 


220 


philohj^ne’s marriages. 


But Masson did not understand, seeing which Philo- 
ni5ne sighed. 

It is more amusing here than at Di^lette/^ said the 
good fellow, who thought quite the contrary. 

^^Yes! But I must, however, return there,’^ said the 
widow, regretfully ; but rest assured I shall carry away 
the memory of your friendship for me.’^ 

In what, the devil ! thought Masson, does this good 
woman see friendship? Well, much good may it do her!^^ 

It is very sad to see each other in this way, to be so 
happy together, and then to part to see each other no 
more.’^ 

But you will see your cousins again, dear Madame ; 
they intend to pass next summer at La Heuserie.^^ 

They, yes ; but you 

I too ; ah ! parbleu I I too ! What should I do else- 
where ? 

These thoughtless words escaped Masson in the warmth 
of his enthusiasm for the country that possessed Virginie, 
and Madame Crepin took them as meant for her. Let no 
one accuse us of improbability; such things occur every 
day, at every minute, and to every one — only when such 
things happen to clever people, they do not speak of them 
to any one. 

^^Do you then love that country so much she said, 
disguising her emotion in feigned merriment. 

I love it so much, that I do not think any place in 
the world more beautiful ! 

^^Ah ! so much the better ! I do not see, however, what 
you find so beautiful in it ! 


PHILOM|]NE’s marriages. 


221 


! dear Madame, everything. The sea, the sky, the 
cliflFs, the verdure, everything — everything, in a word ! 

I do not understand what beauty you can discover in 
tlie ugly gray rocks on the clitfs; the verdure is pretty 
enough, perhaps, although it is much more beautiful at 
Cotentin — 

cannot explain what I find so especially charming in 
your country, but it touches my heart, and as Mignon 
sings : ^ It is there I would wish to live ! ^ 

Three knocks were heard, and Masson rose. 

^^Stay,^^ murmured Madame Cr^pin, really beautified by 
a return of youthfulness and feeling, that increased in her 
with surprising strength. 

^Mt is impossible; but I will come after you before the 
end of the play, so you will not get lost in this crowd.^’ 

He went out, shut the box door, and while the play was 
unravelling its mysteries, Philom^ne, thrown back in her 
chair, with her hands open on her knees, gave herself up 
to the most delirious dreams. Everything intoxicated her: 
the overheated atmosphere of the theatre, the public’s atti- 
tude that awaited with trembling impatience the great and 
beautiful scene of the play, and prepared itself to break 
down everything with its applause. The passionate atmos- 
phere in which a drama should live, if it is worth any- 
thing, acted upon Madame Cr6pin with all the more intens-- 
ity because she found herself in it for the first tim^. She 
plunged into unknown gulfs with the emotion of a woman 
who is borne away on a swing, and who, clasping the ropes 
and feeling herself falling in the air on the frail piece of 


222 


philomI:ne’s marriages. 


board, breathes with delight the dizziness of the fall ; her 
head turned, her hands became moist, and she said over to 
herself: I love him! I love him and without asking 

herself why, or how or what would be the morrow of this 
day that was unique in her life. 

Suddenly she caught up the playbill, to see by what 
name he who would henceforth be the moving power of 
all her life was called in the play. He bore a sonorous 
name — but had he not said he should not play till the 
next act? However, she began to follow the drama with 
fresh interest. What would he do when the accidents of 
the play brought him upon the stage? She listened to 
the entire act with the same feverish attention that the 
other spectators evinced. When it was over she turned 
towards the box-door, hoping he would enter. She was 
aware, however, that Masson could not come, for he was 
dressing himself — but who knew ? She had reached that 
state of mind, that all of us have experienced more or 
less, wherein probabilities or improbabilities no longer 
exist; where the thing we most desire seems the only one 
that can possibly happen ; where we believe everything, ex- 
pect everything, through need of that common sense which 
would make us justly appreciate the proportion of events. 

After ten minutes, that seemed ten centuries to impatient 
Philom^ne, the bell in the foyer rang, and the theatre w^as 
filled again by people making the usual noise of those 
who return to their places after the entr^adey when glasses 
of beer have been drunk in the cafe down-stairs, and when 
the public’s first involuntary coldness is dissipated. It is 


philom£:ne’s marriages. 


223 


tlie time for conversation between friends. Those who 
know the play announce to others, who have not yet seen 
it, the wonders which they are about to witness. In vain 
do some cry, silence and others, ^^sit down!’^ The 
late people slip in between the rows of fauteuils, knocking 
over the ladies’ small benches, and walking on the men’s 
feet, with the self-possession of persons who have paid for 
their seats and owe nothing to any one. 

Impatient and breathless, Philomene threw angry 
glances over the noisy and undisciplined crowd. Vainly 
did she stretch her ears ; she could scarcely distinguish a 
few shreds of the dialogue. At length, the last late comer 
in the third gallery having ceased to quarrel with a 
gentleman who was but little forbearing — thanks to the 
happy intervention of the municipal ” — she was able to 
follow again the increasing interest of the drama that was 
leading the breathless public towards a catastrophe. But 
what would it be? Those who had not seen the pla}" 
could not divine it, so skilfully was the intrigue managed. 
At last, little Gadoreau, as Masson had said, fell, pierced 
ivith a terrible sword-thrust, and Masson, with the order 
of the Golden Fleece around his neck, his face white, rosy 
and fresh-looking, wearing a jet-black moustache, a crim- 
son velvet cap, a white satin pourpoint and a velvet mantle 
embroidered with gold, and followed by twenty men-at- 
arms, advanced, saying, with a resounding voice: 

By heaven ! my lords, you have done a sorry task ! 

My lord, the duke!” screamed the supernumeraries, 
falling back a pace. 


224 


philomI:ne’s marriages. 


How handsome he is ! Ah! how handsome he is!’^ 
thought Philom^ne, feeling all her blood mount to her 
face. Dear Masson ! cried her heart, which beat as it 
had never before beaten when near the defunct Captain ; 

La Heuserie belongs to you, and all that I possess, and 
the owner of those goods herself ! 

Leaning over the front of the box, she followed the 
young man with passionate looks, without thinking of the 
public or the actors, so much so that when Masson, after a 
superb gesture, returned behind the scenes, one of his 
comrades said to him : 

Who is that yellow-colored woman you have brought 
here?^^ 

Where ? said Masson, naively, who had forgotten all 
about Madame Cr6pin. 

There, opposite to us ; she is devouring you with her 
eyes ! 

^^That?^^ said the young man, placing a finger mysteri- 
ously on his lips. Silence! That is my tailoPs aunt; 
I am in good luck ! 

Villanous joker !^^ said the loud voice of the first 
gentleman,^’ who was listening to them. ‘‘One should not 
make fun of one’s tailor’s aunt ; it is a useful acquaintance.” 

So that no one, not even himself, would believe in Mas- 
son’s good fortune, which was, however, real. But, alas ! 
Philom^ne was not pretty enough to provoke calumny. 

The next entr^acte sped by, mortally long for every one 
except Madame Cr6pin, who continued to dream wide 
awakC; and towards the middle of the following act she 


philomJ^jte’s mareiages. 


225 


saw her hero re-enter the box, clad in a frock-coat, and in 
every way looking like himself, and not like the brilliant 
apparition of the third act. 

^^Ah ! how well you play she said to him, forgetting 
all prudence to such a degree that the people near turned 
round. 

Why, there is Masson ! said some in i\\Q fauteuils. 

Annoyed at this circumstance, the young man turned 
his back to the theatre. 

Don^t speak so loud,^^ said he, discreetly. No, I do 
not act well, and it is absurd in them to trouble me to 
come here to utter such stupidities. But, never mind. Is 
not the play droll ? 

Philomdne did not find it droll at all, and Masson had 
all the trouble in the world to make her understand that 
the word ^^drolP^ has not the same signification for the 
inhabitants of Dielette as for those of the boulevards, and, 
failing to do so, he finally gave it up. 

^^She has not a very open intelligence,^’ thought he, 
with as little deference towards her as it was possible to 
feel. ^^What an idea in the Verroys to hamper them- 
selves with that woman ! ” 

Everything ends in this world, even mediseval melo- 
dramas, and towards midnight Philomene found herself 
on Masson’s arm, on an unknown boulevard, amidst the 
rushing to and fro of carriages and omnibuses, and five 
minutes afterwards was in one of those vsame carriages, that 
was bearing her away, not very quickly, towards her 
cousins’ abode. 


226 philom£:ne’s marriages. 

She had read in novels of similar scenes — how, at the 
coming out of a theatre, Arthur being seated near Mathilde 
in a satin-lined coup6, drawn by two full-blooded horses, 
had at last found courage to speak of a passion that could 
no longer be restrained. How, emboldened by the dark- 
ness, he had dared to clasp the little hand of her whom 
he loved, and how the avowal of his passion fell elo- 
quently from his lips, that had been sealed too long from a 
feeling of duty and reason. 

She thought over these thrilling scenes, but Arthur said 
nothing at all ; he was sleepy, and was thinking that he 
certainly would keep the carriage to take liim home, and 
that therefore he would have done better to have taken it 
by the hour, and that not having done so was a want of 
prudence on his part that might cost him a franc more, 
unless he happened to have a very conscientious driver. 

Massoifs saying nothing made Philomene sigh, and he 
felt himself obliged to speak to her. 

Well, do you think you will grow fond of going to 
the theatre he asked her, in a calm voice. 

do not know; I think I 'would like all plays in 
which you might act,^^ said Madame Crepin, burning her 
ships. But this conflagration produced no results, for 
Masson replied at once, unmaliciously : 

^‘1 have, however, acted in a great many poor ones, and 
will act in many more of the same kind.’’ 

Madame Crepin’s ships felt humiliated at having burned 
in vain, but this was due, on the young man’s ])art, to an 
excess of delicacy, or perhaps from being absent-minded. 


philomI:ne’s mariiiages. 


227 


Actors are renowned for the number and frequency of their 
thoughtlessnesses, and so she took heart of grace. 

They are soon going to give something else/^ continued 
Masson ; after the first week I can get two fauteuils 
for you. I could not give them to you for the premiere^ 
the seats are all disposed of beforehand; but Charles and 
Mario will tell you about the play.^^ 

The premihre ? What is that ? asked Philomene. 

^^The first representation of a new drama/^ the young 
man answered, putting a dot over his L 

Will Charles and Marie go?’^ 

Certainly. There is never a premise without them.^^ 

^^Ah ! observed the lady, with a stiff manner. 

It displeased her that her cousins should have an ad- 
vantage over her, that did not come from their fortune, 
but from the consideration felt towards them and from 
their notoriety. She said nothing about it, however, and 
brought back to a sense of her present situation by an emo- 
tion she could not overcome, she let the light of the carriage- 
lamps fall on her ungloved hand, that she laid open on her 
knees. But Masson never dreamed of covering it with 
kisses. 

How slowly this horse goes ! exclaimed he at length, 
in despair at the duration of the drive. 

^^Does the time seem so long to you, then ?” Philomene 
asked, coquettish ly. 

To the contrary, dear Madame ; but it is late, and you 
must be tired.’^ 

‘^Not the least in the world. I would like to drive 


228 


philomI:ne’s maeriages. 


on like this forever/’ she said, in a sweet voice, full of 
restrained emotion. 

The diligence at Pieux, even, goes faster than this,” 
said Masson, leaning out of the carriage- window: ^‘1 say, 
driver, if you don’t go faster, we will get out and take 
another carriage ! ” 

^^Ah, bien ! ” replied the automaton, if you think that 
would punish me, you are mistaken.” 

However, he hurried his horse a little, and our friends 
got out before the Verroys’ house. 

So much the worse for you,” said Masson, I will go 
the rest of the way on foot. I think I shall get home all 
the sooner,” and he dismissed the carriage. I wish you 
good-night, dear Madame.” 

Good-night, Monsieur; I thank you with all my 
heart. I assure you that never. Monsieur Masson, no, 
never, will I forget this evening ; and if I can do any- 
thing to prove my gratitude to you, nothing would be too 
much, you may believe me.” 

You are too kind, dear Madame,” said Masson, with 
his most ceremonious bow ; I do not deserve as much as 
a 1 1 th at. Au revoir ! ” 

When will you come again ? ” 

I do not know. The first day possible.” 

In order to end the conversation, he had rung the bell 
himself. The door opened, and Philomene was obliged 
to enter it, and Masson went off joyfully towards his own 
home, without thinking any more of Madame Cr^pin than 
of his old r6les in days past. 


philomMe^s marriages. 


229 


CHAPTER XXX. 

DI^lLETTE ONCE MORE. 

T he evenings were long at Di^lette, and they were 
obliged to light the lamp early. Madame AubiePs 
eyes were beginning to fail her, and she liked to wait to 
do so until the last gleams of daylight had disappeared. 
She watched from her window the red tints, then the 
orange-colored, and then the pale yellow ones lessening in 
the sky, until a tender green hue gradually overspread the 
horizon, where a scarcely perceptible vague light still 
floated, till the stars appeared, one after another. From 
over the darkened garden and across the black trees came 
the memory of many past hours to her, which slowly arose 
from the old lady^s heart to her lips, while Virginie, 
seated on a low chair, listened to her talking attentively, 
holding her hands crossed on her knees. 

Since Monsieur and Madame Verroy^s departure, the 
intimacy that had always been so tender between these two 
women had^ assumed a new character. They were no 
longer together as a matron and a child in their relation 
of protecting affection on one side, and caressing deference 
on the other. There was a perfect harmony between these 
two pure souls, both of whom had their trials, and they 
understood each other entirely. Virginie had never 
made any allusion to what she felt for Masson, and her 


230 


PHILOM]^NE’s mapeiages. 


godmother had never given her advice or consolation con- 
cerning it ; but in their looks, in certain gestures, in the 
tone of their deep-feeling voices, in the long silences 
that followed the evening talks, was apparent a resigned 
trust on the young girPs side, and a deep pity on the old 
lady^s. 

Nothing was changed in Virginie’s sweet ways and her 
good temper. She went hither and thither, rendering 
kind services to every one; to Monsieur Aubier, with whom 
she played dominos in the evening, in order to prevent 
his going to play them elsewhere ; to the servant-maid, 
whose work she lightened ; and, above all, to her god- 
mother, who never needed to express a wish ; for a move- 
ment, a simple look, were at once divined by the young 
girl. 

But the merry gayety, the songs she used to sing all 
day long, the good romps in the grass with the old, fat 
dog, who recovered his legs to run after her, all this 
had disappeared with Masson. Her childhood, which had 
been prolonged by a tardy development of character be- 
yond ordinary limits, had suddenly given place to all tlie 
anxieties, to all the dreams of youth. She was not sad ; 
she was grave, feeling that a great change was taking place 
within her, and that she was entering a new life, that was 
full of joys and of unknown cares. 

Masson had departed, carrying away Virginie’s heart 
with him ; but he had not troubled her sweet soul. He 
had said nothing to her ; but she knew, however, that he 
loved her, and^ with the beautiful trust of innocent youth, 


philom^:ne’s mareiages. 


231 


she felt sure lie would return — sure that he would ask for 
lier hand. Would he obtain it? There was where her 
anxiety began. 

She knew nothing about him whom she loved; she had 
given her heart away without reflection, without precau- 
tion of any kind whatsoever. She knew he was an actor — 
Madame Aubier had told her so, and as Masson, who was 
very simple in his ways, had nothing of the adventurer 
about him, she said to herself that he went to the theatre 
to gain his living honestly, as a clerk goes to his ofSce. 
Was he rich? What did that matter to her? He was 
well-dressed ; he seemed comfortably off. What we call 
mediocrity is luxury in our peasant’s eyes. He must, 
therefore, be rich. 

But would father Beuron be satisfied with that kind of 
fortune? Would he accept as a son-in-law a man who 
acted at the theatre? Virginie was afraid he would refuse 
him, and in the dread of that refusal she blessed the long 
suspense that gave her with its anxieties the trembling 
joys of hope. 

Since Philomene’s departure a strange event had oc- 
curred every evening; at first Virginie attached no im- 
portance to it, but at the end of two weeks’ time a vague 
disquiet had entered her observing mind. Lavenel went 
constantly to their house, under some pretext at first, and 
then by force of habit afterwards. He came in, bowed to 
them, sat down, or stood up, brought them the news of 
the day, told Virginie some idle story to make her laugh, 
asked about father Beuron, his harvest, his cows and 


232 


philom^:ne’s maeriages. 


sheep, and then left, saying, contrary to the usages of 
politeness which gives precedence to old people: 

^^Good-evening, Mademoiselle Virginie; good-night, 
Madame Aubier/^ 

Later he began to show a preference in wishing to talk 
to the young girl ; he would sit down beside her and play 
with her ball of worsted ; sometimes in fun he would pull 
the wool, which would make Virginie^s knitting fall out 
of her hands ; he joked about her preferences and tastes, 
and this with so affectionate an air, that Madame Aubier 
conceived a secret antipathy for the man, who had been 
indifferent in his manner before. Was he by any chance 
daring to pay attention to Virginie? A man who was 
almost married — par exemple ! — it must be seen to! The 
young girl, who had suddenly become clear-sighted, acted 
with reserve towards him at first, and then with coldness, 
but it had no effect. Madame Lavenel having gone several 
times to pass an hour with Madame Aubier, Virginie had 
managed to absent herself during her visits ; but the old 
woman was only the more amiable the next time she 
called. Seized with real alarm, Virginie one day asked 
her godmother: 

‘^Is not Lavenel engaged to Philomene?^^ 

I have been told so,^^ answered the good lady, but 
neither he nor she have ever spoken to me about it.^^ 

Virginie remained thoughtful a moment. 

Godmother,^^ she then said, raising her lovely, honest 
eyes to the old lady\s face, I perfectly detest that man.’^ 

I also, my little girl,^^ Madame Aubier replied. 


PHILOMENE’s MARPvIAGES. 


They then began to laugh with one accord, but the next 
day Lavenel found them colder and more reserved than 
ever. He left early, and two days passed without his 
returning. 

The two women were rejoicing over this result, when on 
the third day Virginie received a letter from her father. It 
was a short, and but little aifectionate letter, such as he 
always wrote; he bade her return home immediately, 
saying her absence had lasted long enough. 

Virginie, after having read it, gave the paper to her god- 
mother, who examined it carefully, and returned it with- 
out saying a word. 

‘^What must I do?’^ asked the alarmed young girl, 
w^hose eyes were full of tears, that she was struggling to 
restrain. 

‘^Obey,’^ Madame Aubier replied, turning away her 
head, as though she were deliberating about something. 
But the pretence did not succeed either with one or the 
other of them ; they looked at each other and burst into 
tears, then opening their arras they clasped each other in a 
long embrace. 

There is something under all this,’’ said the god- 
mother at length; ‘^be prudent, my darling; say nothing 
to any one, and write me all that happens to you.” 

^^Oh! godmother, to leave you, to leave this house. 
You have been so ill, I was so happy with you ! I have 
never loved you so much before!” 

The poor child felt her heart was breaking; she did not 
endeavor to pierce the mystery of the sudden command; 
15 


234 


PIIILOMENE^S MAEEIAGES. 


it was enough for her to be obliged to bear the separation 
from all that she held dear. Would she not be a thousand 
times farther away from Masson at her father’s house ? 

^^Be prudent, do you hear, my child ? Do not displease 
your father or your step-mother — ” 

Virginie shook her head sadly : displeasing her step- 
mother was her daily pain ; and how could she help offend- 
ing at every moment — by the simple fact of her existence — 
the avaricious, selfish woman, who loved nothing but 
money, and who was angry at Virginie for being alive, 
because she would succeed to a part of father Beuron’s 
inheritance, who was thirty years older than herself! 

— And they will let you come back to me!” Madame 
Aubier ended. 

This hope was the young girl’s only real consolation. 
Nevertheless, it was with a heavy heart that she packed 
her valise, and set forth the next morning in the little 
carriole her father had sent to fetch her. 

The evening following her departure Lavenel made his 
appearance at his usual hour ; at the sound of his voice 
Madame Aubier raised her head suddenly and looked him 
full in the face. The grain merchant feigned not to see 
the movement, and looked all around the dining-room. 

Where is Mademoiselle Virginie?” said he, craftily. 

have brought her some chestnuts. They are new 
ones ! ” 

Yon know very well that Virginie has returned to 
her father’s house,” Madame Aubier said in a natural 
manner. 


philom^:ne^s maeeiages. 


235 


How should I know it?’^ said Lavenel, much 
astonished, but without changing color. 

you have been to father Beuron’s house, you ought 
to know what takes place there.^^ 

^^Who could have told you, Madame Aubier, that I 
have been to see father Beuron?^^ replied the good man, 
without lying, but not without dissimulating. Every one 
knows, do they not, that to dissimulate is not to lie ? He 
did not deny it, but he could deny it, presently, should it 
be the case that no one had betrayed him. 

It was a letter from Beuron that apprised me of it.’^ 
^^At all events, he could not have told you so ! answered 
Lavenel, becoming anxious. 

It is not always necessary to tell me things for me to 
learn them, my dear Monsieur, said Madame Aubier, with 
a cunning smile. ^^And, by the way, have you lately 
received any news from Philom^ne Cr^pin ?” 

said the betrothed man, nearly falling backward 
with surprise ; eh ! my good lady, why should the widow 
Crepin write to me?’^ 

^^Dame! people write to each other sometimes, when 
they are even farther separated than yourselves ; I thought 
she would keep you informed about her affairs/^ 

Oh ! Philom^ne does not talk to every one about her 
affairs ; every one has his own, is it not so ? She is getting 
on at Paris as she likes : she is in good hands, moreover.’^ 
Madame Aubier looked at the wall in an absent 
manner ; after a short silence, she continued : 

In good hands, you say — how do you mean 


236 


PHILOMi:NE’s MARRIAGES. 


And she fastened as void a look as possible on her 
visitor. 

^‘Ah ! mon Dieu!^^ said Lavenel, in an innocent way, 
there are some people who say she has promised them 
her inheritance. You have certainly heard that spoken 
of?^^ 

The old lady continued staring at him, and he was 
obliged to end his phrase. 

If she has promised them her inheritance, it is proba- 
ble they take good care of her, for fear of being disin- 
herited.’^ 

That would not be very clever on their part,” observed 
Madame Aubier, ‘Yor if they take too good care of her, 
she will live as long as they do, and who would have her 
inheritance then?” 

Lavenel bit his lips ; his mother had strongly cautioned 
him not to irritate Madame Aubier ! He would have 
done better to have listened to the counsels of maternal 
wisdom, but youth is presumptuous, and it is a consolation 
to say this to one’s self, when one is forty years old. 

^^It must be of some concern to you, if Philomene has 
made a will in favor of her cousins, for after all, when 
people marry, it is customary for them to make a settle- 
ment on each other.” 

Caught in a snare, Lavenel muttered something about 
notaries, wdio ask nothing better than to make people 
spend money, and how much happier joeople were who 
married each other without any contract, under the law of 
a union of property; then he looked into the street, 


philom^ine’s marriages. 


237 


announced to his hostess that it was very dark ; after which 
he left ill a state of mind analogous to that of the fox 
who had been caught by a hen. 

^‘She is not a woman/^ said he to himself, ^^she is the 
devil in person ! How did she know that I had been 
to father Beuron’s house? Bah ! some gossip has told her 
that I started off from Dielette in that direction. I went 
by the way of Les Pieux, however, but people are so talk- 
ative ! They are never quiet till they have told all about 
their neighbor’s affairs!” However, he entered his home 
in a thoughtful mood. 

^^Well ?” said his mother on seeing him. 

She will put some stones under our wheels, mother,” 
replied he. It is not arranged yet ! We will have some 
trouble!” 

We will only have the more merit in getting the better 
of it,” this truly clever woman answered him, who had, 
however, never read Corneille. 


238 


philomJ^ne's marriages. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


MADAME AUBIER WRITES A LETTER. 

N the following day Madame Aubier received a letter 



from her goddaughter, and on perusing the first 
line she rubbed her eyes, thinking she must be mistaken, 
so improbable did what she read seem to her, although she 
had foreseen it : 

My dear godmother/^ wrote Virginie, ^^come to my 
rescue and protect me from frightful unhappiness: my 
father wishes to marry me to Lavenel. Never will I 
marry that man whom I hate. I would prefer to die.’^ 
The letter was not long; a few heart-broken phrases 
only, repetitions of the same cry of alarm, and a thousand 
childish expressions of endearment sent to her good god- 
mother, who would know some way of protecting her — 
that was all ! 

Madame Aubier remained thoughtful. She knew 
father Beuron’s obstinate and despotic character; and 
that to attack him openly would be to place before one’s 
self the reasoning and intelligence of a wall; to endeavor 
to overcome him by gentleness and thoughtfulness would 
only be to make him firmer in that persistent determina- 
tion of a man who is not overburthened with ideas, but 
who holds to those he has by chance, and who does not 
wish to pass for a weather-cock. Since his birth no one 


PHILOMi]XE’s MAERIAGES. 


239 


had ever obtained anything from him by persuasion ; he 
would have thought he was lowering himself by yielding. 

The question of interest remained. Virgin ie would 
receive as her dot her mother’s fortune, besides what her 
father would doubtlessly give her : Madame Aubier knew 
Lavenel too well, not to feel certain he had asked for and 
obtained something: if she could induce the obstinate old 
man to blame his prospective son-in-law for self-interested 
motives she would gain time, and for the present nothing 
more was necessary. Before a month Philoni^ne would 
have returned, and then it would be the flour merchant’s 
business to free himself from her furious hands. 

Suppose I write to Philom^ne?” the good woman 
thought. But she put aside this idea at once ; to give 
over Virginie’s name and peace of mind to that woman 
seemed to her more to be avoided than all the rest, for 
she knew nothing about the tender feelings the widow 
cherished for Masson, and believed in her good faith con- 
cerning her proposed marriage with Lavenel. ‘^At all 
events I will write to Marie Verroy,” concluded Madame 
Aubier, and immediately set herself to work, and in her 
large old woman’s handwriting she announced the imhapjiy 
fact to her friends in Paris, leaving them to judge whethca* 
they should acquaint Masson or not about the fate in 
reserve for the young girl. Then she addressed a few 
words of consolation to her goddaughter, promising her 
to interfere about it, and after this excess jof epistolary 
exertion she gave herself up to deep thought, during 
which time no flattering epithets ^vere once accorded to 
Lavenel ’s name. 


240 


PHILOMtoE’s MAKRIAGES. 


Our friends were breakfasting together when Madame 
*Aubier’s letter was brought to them with the rest of their 
mail. Philom^ne was dull; her morning walks to her 
debtor’s house had thus far been without results, so that 
she had been obliged to place the affair in the hands of a 
business man. Every one knows that such persons do 
not solely work for the philanthropical end of making 
recalcitrant debtors pay their dues, and Madame Cr4pin 
had been obliged to unloosen the strings of her purse, an 
act which was always essentially disagreeable to her. 

She was therefore dull, and eat but little — that is to say 
only the choice bits — leaving the rest on her plate. Her 
cousins, who were becoming accustomed to this manner of 
acting, without, however, succeeding in finding it pleasant, 
did not notice her, and were talking of their own affairs. 
Marie, in turning over the papers and printed matter of 
all sorts that made up their morning mail, found the letter 
bearing the postmark of Di6lette, and could not control a 
slight start. 

What is it?” asked Charles, raising his head, 

Nothing,” said Marie, becoming prudent, without 
knowing why herself. 

Is it a letter ? ” 

‘^An old story,” replied Marie, a little impatiently, as 
she put the letter in her pocket. 

Charles returned to his cutlet, under the fire of Philo- 
mene’s condemnatory look which expressed: ^^You are 
simply an idiot, my friend, to allow your wife to hide 
her letters in her pocket like that! I assure you my 
husband would be obliged to show me his ! ” 


philom^ine’s marriages. 


241 


But Verroy saw neither the look nor the reproach 
it bore, and took a second cutlet, as his appetite was 
good. 

The repast over, and Marie having shut the door on 
the train of Philo mine’s dress, who was obliged to return 
to disengage herself from it, before being able to leave the 
room, the young wife ran to Charles, and taking him by 
the arm dragged him into the inviolable sanctuary of their 
sleeping-room. For greater safety she bolted the door, 
and then went towards her husband with the letter in her 
hand. 

What mystery ! ” said the latter ; is some one claim- 
ing a hundred thousand francs of us?^^ 

No ; but Madame Aubier has written to us,’^ replied 
the young wife, who had read her letter while her husband 
had been talking. ^^They want to marry Virginie — to 
whom? I give you a thousand guesses about it — to 
Lavenel.^^ 

Zounds exclaimed Charles. 

Marie ! said Philom^ne’s lamentable voice behind 
the door, while she knocked modestly, but with per- 
sistence. 

I am coming,” replied the latter. 

I want to say two words to you.” 

Wait for me in the drawing-room ; my husband is 
dressing himself.” 

Philom^ne did not answer, but no step on the other 
side of the door proved that she had left her post. 

What cravat do you wish?” asked Madame Verroy, 


242 


philom^:ne’s marriages. 


very loudly, as though she were addressing her husband. 

I will go and get it for you.’^ 

I am going myself/’ Charles replied, without moving 
from the arm-chair in which he had seated himself. 

The noise of soft, light footsteps apprised them that 
Madame Cr^pin had left the place. 

Do you know this annoys me ! ” said Verroy, in a bad 
humor; now we are even obliged to act parts. Is she 
not soon going away ? ” 

' ^^As soon as possible, dear,” Marie answered, in a 
conciliatory tone. ^^But listen, Lavenel has asked for 
Virginie’s hand ! ” 

I hope they sent him off politely ! ” said Verroy. 

No ! Father Beuron has consented to give it to 
him.” 

Well, and what are they going to do with Masson, 
then ? What a fright for the young birds ! ” 

More disturbed than he supposed he coiild be two 
minutes before, Charles began to walk up and down the 
room ; he loved his friend sincerely and deeply ; men’s 
friendship is not full of affectionate phrases, but one need 
only see them when they are tried ! They, who speak to 
each other like strangers, who scarcely clasp each other’s 
hands, would, if necessary, be killed for each other. Had 
Verroy held, at that moment, either father Beuron or 
Lavenel himself by the hair, he would have thrown him 
out of the third-story window into the street, without 
thinking of the remorse such an impulsive action might 
cause him afterwards. 


PHILOMi:NE’s MARRIAGES. 


243 


^^And she — the little one — what does she say about it ? ” 
said he, stopping before his wife. 

She is in despair. 

Then she loves Masson ! ” 

''Naturally.^' 

Charles began his walk again. An almost imperceptible 
noise was heard in the corridor, and Marie put her finger 
on her lips ; her husband, who was less patient, hurried 
towards the door, and opened it vehemently on Philo- 
m^ne, who had not had time to fly. 

What is the matter ? said he, with very little 
graciousness. 

It is the maid who wishes to see Marie,^^ the widow 
stammered, much ashamed and embarrassed. 

Have the kindness, my dear cousin, to tell her to leave 
us in peace.^^ 

He shut the door, and this time Madame Cr^pin went 
away, making her heavy leather shoes resound as better 
evidence of her departure. 

^^Do you know that one of these fine mornings I shall 
tell some truths to her?^^ said Charles, suddenly become 
gay at the thought of this future skirmish. I begin to 
need this recreation.’^ 

Have a little patience, dear ; listen now — it concerns 
those we love ! ” 

You are right. What must we do ? ” 

See Masson this very day ! We cannot act without 
asking him what he wishes to do.” 

^^That is true! Twill go and send him a telegram, 
saying : ^Prudence and mystery! ’ ” 


244 


PHIL0M^:NE’S MAREIAGES. 


They left their retreat, and Charles went out to put his 
plan into execution. 

As the telegram could not reach its address before two 
hours, Marie profited by this lapse of time to do a hurried 
errand, and Verroy, having calculated in the same manner 
about the delay, did likewise, and they both were absent for 
about three hours. 

Philom^ne, who was much mystified about the morn- 
ing’s secret conference, remained in the drawing-room as 
she had the habit of doing. Seated in an arm-chair, in a 
studied attitude, with her train spread over the carpet, and 
a novel in her hand, she imagined herself a duchess, 
and dreamed about future plans that were vague, but 
delightful. 

Masson entered. Forewarned by the telegram, he did 
not ask the cousin about what they miglit Iiave to say 
to him, but he sat down beside her and began to talk to 
her. The woman amused him with her pretensions, so 
recently grafted on the older tree of her ambition ; he 
found her droll and thought her good, which permitted 
him to use towards her the freedom of manner that his 
long intimacy with the Verroys authorized. Not imagin- 
ing, moreover, that his friends could have any important 
communication to make to him, and supposing it was only 
a question of procuring some theatre tickets for some 
country friend of theirs, his mind was quite at rest. 

Therefore he sat down by Madame Cr^pin in the best 
of spirits. 

How pretty you look! ” said he to her, smiling; ^^you 
have put on a new cap. Is it in honor of me?” 


phtlom^:ne’s marriages. 


245 


course!’^ the widow replied, blushing with pleasure. 

^^You knew, then, I was coming? I knew nothing 
about it myself two hours ago! 

*^Iam always expecting you ! said Madame Cr6pin, 
lowering her eyes. 

Masson took this confession for a pleasant joke. 

That is very nice, at least, what you say to me ! he 
answered, with his usual good-nature; ‘^everybody does 
not say as much. Are you going to remain here some 
time still ? 

do not know; it does not depend on myself!’’ 

How happy you are to be able to live in that pretty 
country!” suddenly exclaimed the young man, letting the 
too great fulness of his heart overflow. ^^To live there in 
a little gray stone house, with a small garden — what a 
heaven it would be! — ” 

^^All alone ? ” 

^^Ah ! no, par example ! not all alone ! With my wife ! 
La Heuserie, with my wife — that is my ideal ! ” 

Philomene felt her heart beat with delight — La Heu- 
serie and his wife ! Should these two desiderata be united 
in one — the proprietor and the property — then Masson 
surely would have nothing more to ask of Heaven ! Only 
to tell him so was not very easy, and to make him under- 
stand it, a task none the less delicate. Philomene said 
to herself she would use an auxiliary. 

^^Do you like the country, then, so much?” she asked, 
in a voice as melodious as her throat would allow. 

I adore it ! It is repose ; it is sleep ! After this fiery 


246 


philomI^ne’s marriages. 


Paris that devours us, after evenings passed in that furnace 
which men call a theatre, to breathe the fresh air, to see 
the verdure, to talk to people who answer you in patois — 
what a dream it is ! 

I do not see what you can find attractive in patois, 
said Philom^ne, with astonishing quickness; I know 
when I returned from my travels, when I went to Havre 
and to Nantes, to join my late husband, that I found my- 
self quite bewildered on returning to Di^lette ! Excepting 
Madame Aubier, there was really no one to whom I could 
speak French ! 

Why,^^ said Masson, much surprised, ^4t seemed to 
me every one spoke French there.’^ 

Yes; to you answered Philora^ne, without perceiv- 
ing she betrayed her silly vanity. ‘^But they will not 
speak anything but patois to me, because I belong to the 
place ! ” 

^^Well, they don’t do very wrong!” Masson nearly 
said; but he restrained himself, however, and prudently 
kept silent. 

^^Is it so true. Monsieur Masson,” asked the widow, 
with an enigmatical smile, is it positively true, that you 
have such a great desire to live at our place?” 

^^It is entirely true, and quite certain, dear Madame; 
but between the cup and the lip there is room for such a 
prodigious quantity of things, that I do not know whether 
my dream may ever be realized ! ” 

Courage, my friend ! ” said Philom^ne, looking out of 
the window; ^^one must always hope : chance brings about 
so many unexpected things!” 


philomj^ne’s marriages. 


247 


yes ! said our hero, sighing, I have a share in 
the ^Loan of the City of Paris.^ I may draw the large 
l^rize ! But there are so many shares, and only one large 
prize ! 

Decidedly,’^ thought Madame Crepin, he will never 
understand by himself! Poor fellow! it would be a real 
fortune for him ! Added to what he earns, it would make 
a very nice income ! 

Philom^ne had but little idea of what is considered a 
good income in Paris. She thought that with five or six 
thousand francs a year one might live in a little hotel, and 
buy a picture of a celebrated master from time to time, or 
something approaching one. 

Just as she was about most probably to commit some 
irremediable blunder, Marie returned. 

On seeing Masson indolently seated on a low chair, 
almost at his sweet friend’s feet, she stopped, wishing to 
reassure herself about the eventuality of some indiscretion 
or imprudence on his part. But how should she rid her- 
self of Philom^ne’s useless society, to say the least of it? 
She had had many occasions of proving to herself the 
futility of all attempts, having for object the dismissal 
of that dear soul from the room when she received a visit, 
so that, impelled by the urgency of the circumstance, she 
took a desperate resolve. 

I have an errand to do,” said she to Masson, and 
I wish to consult you about a purchase. Can you go 
with me?” 

^^Always!” replied the good fellow, who seized his hat 
and went towards the door. 


248 


philom^:ne’s marriages. 


It has happened to most of us, when we are walking in 
the country, to search about in hedges for blackberries or 
strawberries, the fruit appears half-hidden under the 
leaves. We at first put aside the branches and the grass 
with care. Then, as habit teaches us where the fruit is to 
be found without hunting for it so much, we pick and eat 
it carelessly for a few seconds, and then suddenly, just as 
our hand is advancing to cull a new cluster, warned by 
something inexplicable, we bend our head suddenly and 
look, and instead of what we thought to grasp, we find at 
our finger-ends some hideous reptile — a toad, that stares 
at us with its great, open eyes, or an enormous spider 
threatening us with all the might of its venomous nature. 
Nothing is able to describe to those who have not felt it, 
what the sensation is of horror and disgust that runs over 
one in an instant from one’s head to one’s feet, and which 
returns two or three times, and seems to seize one’s very 
heart. 

Surprise has a great part in this sensation, and dis- 
appointment as well; but more than all the rest, is the 
violent contrast in it — the discovery of a monster, where 
we had hoped to find a small pleasure. 

This same sensation, this same shock, ran over Marie’s 
person, when on the threshold, just as she was turning 
to say good-bye” to her cousin, she caught her look full 
of odious suspicions, and fraught with envy and hatred. 
She trembled, and drew herself up as if an unclean reptile 
had touched her; but the look had become vague, and was 
only fixed upon the wall — the nightmare had disappeared, 
as such do when we awake. 


i>hilom^:ne’s marriages. 


249 


said the young woman, with a sigh that was 
mingled with disgust and relief. 

What is the matter asked Masson, hastily. 

Nothing. Come; Charles is waiting for us down- 
stairs.’^ 

She left, followed by the young man. Charles was not 
awaiting them, and she knew it ; but she could not resist 
the desire of protecting herself against Philomene’s look. 

I have something to tell you,” began Madame Verroy, 
as soon as they were out of doors. 

^^Is that why you sent for me?” asked Masson, more 
and more surprised. 

Yes, we are at home in our own house no longer; we 
are continually watched. But listen : they want to marry 
Virginie.” 

^^Ah ! ” said the young actor, suddenly changing coun- 
tenance and stopping short. 

He had become so pale and so overcome that Marie re- 
pented her want of precaution ; but she was still so deeply 
affected by her recent shock, that she did not possess her 
ordinary clearness of judgment. 

‘Ht is not arranged,” she said with haste; do not 
despair; Madame Aubier wrote me that Lavenel had asked 
for her goddaughter’s hand.” 

Lavenel ? That is enough to make one wonder if one 
can be in one’s right mind. Virginie and Lavenel ! It is 
an unkind joke.” 

^^Unfortunately, it is serious.” 

‘^And she allows this to be done to her?” 

16 


250 


PHILOMiiNE’S MARRIAGES. 


“ No/’ replied Madame Verroy, gently, ^^she wrote her 
godmother, imploring her to prevent it.” 

Then she does not wish to marry him ? ” 

She says she would rather die.” 

The dear child! ” murmured Masson. Then he kept 
silence for a moment : Would she accept me, if I asked 
her ? ” 

She ? Why, she wants no one but you.” 

Masson warmly grasped Madame Verroy’s hand, that 
was hanging by her side : it was his way of thanking her. 
Involuntarily the young woman raised her eyes towards 
her window’; but Philom^ne had not remembered that 
observatory. At the same moment, Charles, who was 
returning home, joined them. 

What are you plotting there? ” said he to them. 

^^We are talking of our secret affairs,” Marie an- 
swered. 

^^In the street? Would you not be better off up- 
stairs?” 

No, Argus is watching.” 

Charles murmured a few words, that he probably did 
not deem worthy his companions’ ears; then he said, 
emphatically : 

^^Let us take a carriage, then.” 

So that it was in the Bois de Boulogne, in a large coup4 
found at a neighboring stand, that Masson’s hopes and 
feelings were discussed betw^een our three friends; but in 
spite of their debates and the going over the same argu- 
ments, the result remained unchanged: that it was useless 


PHILOMijNE’s MARRIAGES. 251 

to present himself as an aspirant to Virginia’s hand, unless 
he had something positive to offer her. 

^^But/’ finally asked Madame Verroy, ^Svhat would 
your mother say to such a marriage ? ” 

My mother ? Dear Madame, it would only be suffi- 
cient for me to speak to her about it, for her to see an imp 
of Satan in the woman I wish to marry. And then, it 
seems to me, that marriage will separate me farther still 
from the Seminary.” 

Oh ! ” said Charles, looking out of the carriage- 
window, as far as that goes at present — ” 

Our friends could not help laughing at this skeptical 
remark, and Marie took a resolution that was as sudden 
as astounding. 

am going to see your mother myself,” she said, ^^and 
I have every reason for believing that she will not take 
me for an imp of Satan.” 

Will you do that?” exclaimed Masson. 

Certainly.” 

^^Will you go to Ma5onnais, to that little village no 
larger than Di^lette, and persuade my poor, obstinate 
mother that I am not the last of prodigal sons, and that I 
might desire to perpetuate my father’s name, which she 
has worn so worthily ! ” 

We will go, will we not, Charles? ” said Marie. 

‘^Do anything you like, provided you do not take 
Philom^ne with you.” 

This was not to be feared, and Madame Verroy deter- 
mined to leave the next day. Our three conspirators 


252 


PHIL0M^:XE’S MAREIAGES. 


separated at the threshold of Charles’ door, grasping each 
other’s hands like the Swiss of Griitli, but without singing 
the smallest trio. 

On seeing the husband and wife return alone, and 
together, Philom^ne could not control a movement of 
vexation. 

Did you meet each other then ? ” she asked Marie, 
sullenly. 

Why, of course; Charles joined us at the door. It 
was arranged beforehand,” said the latter, a little mali- 
ciously. 

Yes, we were to go together to the Bois de Boulogne,” 
added Charles, with noticeable satisfaction. It is so 
pleasant to annoy people a little whom one does not like. 
Moralists have never been able to decide whether this 
last pleasure exceeds that of being nice to those one 
loves; we must believe, therefore, that it depends on 
people and circumstances, for opinions are much divided 
in regard to it. 

To have been to the Bois de Boulogne! With Masson ! 
AVithout herself! Philom^ne looked round the dining- 
room, where this conversation had taken place during 
dinner, and then cast her eyes down on her plate, and 
stopped eating, contenting herself with making a number 
of little bread balls, that she spread on her empty plate, in 
a manner to attract attention. 

Are you not hungry ? ” asked Marie. 

^^No.” 

''Are you ill?” 

"Yes.” 


PHILOMi^NE^S MARRIAGES. 


253 


Where are you suffering?’^ 

Every where. Eor a long while !” 

You should see a physician.^^ 

What would be the good of it ? I know very well I 
shall never make old bones ! 

Charles plunged his carving-knife into the poulet-aii- 
cressoUy so energetically that he broke the porcelain plate 
in two. 

^^There!^^ said he, with a contented air, ^^a little exer- 
cise does one good. Julie, bring a plate 

The maid brought the required plate and carried away 
the pieces of the other one with an alarmed look, but 
Verroy seemed delighted, and he divided the innocent fowl 
equally, without evincing any more emotion, 
wing of fowl, cousin said he, quietly. 

^^No; thanks, cousin, it will not agree with me.’^ 

^^You must not eat anything to disagree with you; I 
would rather eat it myself than do you any harm. Marie, 
have you arranged everything for your journey 
^^No, dear, but it will only take an hour.^^ 

^^Are you going on a journey Madame Cr^pin asked, 
suddenly recovering her strength. 

^^A few days’ absence. But you can remain here if your 
business is not yet finished.” 

‘^My business is finished,” said Philom^ne, curtly, ^^at 
least as much as it will ever be. I cannot stay all winter 
in Paris — ” 

^AVhy not?” said Charles, with angelic sweetness, but 
Madame Cr^pin would take no notice of his question. 


254 


PHILOMiiNE’s MARRIAGES. 


I am going away also/^ said she, regretfully. I did 
not think it would be decided so suddenly — I have some 
purchases to make; not much, for I am not rich, but — 
There is no necessity for your going away,^^ replied 
Marie, with her usual kindness; “my husband is going 
to remain here ; you can keep house for him during my 
absence.^^ 

“Well, if it will not disturb you — I have not thought 
of such a sudden separation — I have a very sensitive heart ! 
This pains me more than you can believe.” 

“Julie, the dessert !” said Charles, in a voice of thunder. 
The little maid hastened, affrighted, asking herself what 
could have changed her master’s character in this way, who 
was generally so amiable. 


PHILOMiiNE’s MARRIAGES. 


255 


CHAPTER XXXII, 


CONFIDENCES. 


FTER dinner, Verroy having apparently regained 



his amiability, went out to smoke his cigar on the 
balcony, and Philom^ne followed her cousin into the small 
drawing-room where she generally worked. 

^^You are going away?^^ said she to her, sitting down 
by her side on the sofa. 

Yes ! I must ; it is a business journey.^’ 

You have not spoken of it ! 

^^I knew nothing about it this morning; its necessity 
has only just become apparent.’^ 

Madame Cr^pin asked herself whether Masson had not 
something to do with this affair, but the idea seemed so 
improbable to her that she gave it up immediately. But 
if her cousin went away, what would become of the con- 
fidence she had made up her mind to make her ? Would 
it not be better to assure herself of the young woman’s 
kindness before her departure, so as to profit largely by 
her absence for realizing her ambitious hopes? With the 
beetle-like obstinacy particular to persons who are much 
infatuated with themselves, she decided to burn her ships. 

^^I shall be gone, perhaps, when you return,” said she 
to her. 


‘^Why?” 

Philom^ne kept silent and lowered her head. 


256 


PHIL0M^:NE’S MARRIAGES. 


^^Are you unhappy here?’^ asked the young woman, 
with a vague impression that her husband martyrized her, 
when she was not there to protect her. 

‘^Unhappy! I am as happy here as one could be any- 
where in the world. But it is time for me to leave ; I 
have remained here only too long.^^ 

^^AVhy?^^ asked Marie again, for her phrase was turned 
in such a manner as to provoke this question inevitably. 

Do you wish to know the reason ? 

Certainly, since I have asked it of you ! 

Philomene seemed to collect herself for a supreme elfort, 
and really it did cost her something; her self-love blinded 
her sufficiently to hide to herself the absurdity of her aspi- 
rations, but a sort of sincere shame arrested the words on 
her lips, just as she was about to make the confession of 
lier weakness. If only she had not sworn so many times, 
that, after having loved the Captain so much, she could 
never look at any other man, no matter who he was! Im- 
prudent words! Why does one utter them? Would it 
not be a hundred times wiser to keep what one thinks to 
one’s self? She promised herself to do so in the future — 
but not this time of course — and this was where her great 
wisdom was in default. 

Since you wish to know it,” said she, turning her face 
half aside, covered with confusion and blushes, it is on 
account of Masson.” 

Marie thought she had not heard rightly — in reality she 
had only understood wrongly. 

Masson ! Has he been disagreeable to you ? ” 


PHILOMi:NE’s MARRIAGES. 


257 


He ? Why, he is the best of men, and the most amiable ! 

‘'But then?'' 

" This is it, my dear : I fear if I should see him often, 
and for a long while, that I should become too much 
attached to him." 

"You? Masson? Too much attached to him? Excuse 
me, dear, I do not understand you ! " 

Philom^ne then lost all precaution ; after the first avowal, 
which had cost her something, she knew no more bounds, 
and she continued on the giddy descent of confessions, with 
the ever-increasing rapidity of a wagon that descends a slope 
by itself. 

"Yes; I know very well that at my age it is ridicu- 
lous, and especially after having loved my poor husband so 
much. But it is not my fault, I have too loving a nature. 
I have not been spoiled in the way of affectionate words 
and kind treatment, and Masson has been so kind to me, 
so obliging, and has shown me so much affection, that I 
have not been able to resist it." 

" My poor Philomene ! " said Marie, who was dumb- 
founded, and felt pity for this strange passion, which, under 
stress of circumstances, might have had birth in the mind 
of a consolable widow. 

"You have asked me why I have not had any appetite 
for two weeks: it is on account of this. I feel I am failing 
in health. I do not sleep at night. I know it is madness, 
and I have done everything I could to keep myself from it." 

This was an audacious untruth. Never had Philomene, 
from her cradle, endeavored to hold herself back from any 


258 


philomj^ne’s marriages. 


abyss whatever; she had, on the contrary, sought with 
admirable persistency and lucidity everything that might 
satisfy one of her desires or please one of her fancies, and 
only refused herself things when destiny, after several repe- 
titions, made her at length realize that it did not intend to 
gratify her. 

Marie kept silence, seeing which her cousin began to 
weep. Tears possess, among their other advantages, this 
one: that they oblige the witness of their grief to prof- 
fer marks of sympathy, from which otherwise she would 
probably have refrained. This manner of proceeding had 
its usual effect, for Madame Verroy leaned towards Philo- 
m^ne, and caressed her affectionately by tapping her on 
her shoulder. Madame Crepin buried her tear-covered, 
confused face deeper in her handkerchief. 

^^Come, Philom^ne, be reasonable; calm yourself,^^ said 
the kind woman, taking her hand. But Philom^ne did 
not wish to be reasonable nor to calm herself, and her 
cousin took advantage of her agitation to reflect, during 
which time the current of her tears exhausted itself alone. 

In Madame Verroy’s upright mind, Madame Crepin’s 
love for Masson was one of the most unfortunate things 
that could have happened to her. Incapable of under- 
standing the mixture of ambition, of jealousy, of contemp- 
tible or bad feelings, that had presided at the birth and 
development of this fortuitous passion, she saw in it one of 
those unlucky accidents that are common to women who 
live without intellectual or moral occupation at the age 
that a clever novelist, who well understood women^s hearts, 
has characterized as the crisis.’^ 


philomIine^s marriages. 


259 


It is not the unhappy woman’s fault/’ she said to her- 
self; ^^she was alone, a widow, without children, and her 
modest competency even turned against her in taking from 
her the preoccupation of procuring her daily bread. Mas- 
son appeared to her like a sort of enchanter, a being from 
another world, and she loved him — foolishly — ” 

Yes; foolishly! It was impossible not to acknowledge 
this. A peasant woman, forty years old, endowed with a 
little common sense, would never have cast her eyes on an 
actor, a man of the world, several years younger than her- 
self, and as little suited to her, as an old French saying 
goes, ^^as a silk stocking for an ox.” Evidently Philo- 
m^ne had been wanting from first to last, in all the quali- 
ties of an intelligent woman. But what was there to do 
about it? 

When Marie thought Philom^ne had wept sufficiently, 
she said to her : 

^^Come, what do you wish me to do? Would you like 
me to beg Masson to cease his visits here during the time 
that your business still retains you in Paris?” 

As she was asking this question, the young woman said 
to herself that her cousin’s business was not very impor- 
tant, and that it had lasted a long time; why had not the 
imprudent Philom^ne remedied the evil by taking flight 
at an opportune moment ? 

^^Oh! no,” exclaimed Madame Cr^pin, hastily; ^^he 
would guess why, and I would die of shame !” 

Not the least danger of it in the world,” replied 
Marie ; it very often happens that we close our doors to 


260 


PHILOMj^NE’s MARRIAGES. 


all our friends for a week or two, when Charles has some 
hurried work to finish, and no one asks any other explana- 
tion of our seclusion.’^ 

‘^No, no,^^ Philom^ne murmured faintly, do not pre- 
vent his coming here; I shall soon go away; I shall 
perhaps never see him again; let me do so while I am 
here : then it will be over ! 

Madame Verroy thought all this very childish and 
very unworthy of a woman of her age, whose misfortunes 
should have protected her from such infatuations, but this 
poor Philom^ne fed herself on novels; it was but little 
astonishing, therefore, that her ideas should be romantic. 
However, she could not help saying to her : 

You would do better not to see him, since it cannot 
result in anything for you ! 

Wounded to the quick, but still cunning as ever, the 
widow continued the attack from another side. 

know very well that it can result in nothing,^^ said 
she; ^^it is not necessary for you to make me realize ray 
folly; the difference in age between us — five years — renders 
all idea of marriage ridiculous, I know ; so don’t distress 
yourself.” 

^^Oh!” answered Marie, much annoyed; ^^it is not the 
difference in age ; I know some very clever men who have 
married women, not five, but ten years older than them- 
selves, and who arc nevertheless perfectly happy.” 

^^What hindrance is there, then, according to you?” 
asked Madame Crepin, in the state of mind of a cock who 
meets another on his own dung-heap. 


PHlLOMilNE’s MAHRIAGES. 


261 


There is the diiFerence of habits, of education, of sur- 
roundings ! said Marie, with a certain discouraged tone. 
It was decidedly becoming very difficult for her to make 
any ideas enter her cousin’s head without saying disagree- 
able things to her. 

^^Alas ! ” replied Philomene, in a sweet and plaintive 
voice, I know very well that I have not been brought 
up ill a city, but as far as regards education, my cousin 
Charles has been very happy with you, and you knew no 
more than I do when you married him. Now, there is the 
question of fortune; but has not Masson said a hundred 
times that he would consider it the height of happiness to 
live at La Heuserie on a small income, just enough to 
make the two ends meet? It is the simplicity of his 
tastes that has influenced me in his favor. As I listened 
to him talking I said to myself : There is a man who has 
exactly my tastes and ideas — and that was another thing that 
attracted me towards him. And then he resembles my late 
husband so much. That is why I loved him at first sight! ” 

^^Like Juliet with Romeo,” thought Marie; the 
ridiculous part her cousin was acting in trying to justify 
herself in this way began to fill her with merriment that 
was but little in harmony with the occasion. ^^I cannot, 
however, tell her,” she thought, ^^that we are going to try 
to marry her idol and Virginie! Mon Dieu! how furious 
she would be ! ” 

Meanwhile she wished to end the scene, and she had a 
bright idea. 

Would you like me to speak to him about it?” said 


262 


PHILOMi:NE’s MARRIAGES. 


Madame Verroy; that you might know what to 
expect ? 

^^No, no!’’ said Philom^ne, delighted^ and shaking her 
head gently; ^^no, I beg of you, do not S2:)eak to him 
about it; if anything is to happen I prefer it should come 
from him.” 

This language was enigmatical but nevertheless clear. 

You mean to say that the proposal should come from 
him? However, as you have spoken to me about it, I 
might insinuate — ” 

Marie hoped in this way to obtain a means for sending 
her cousin back to her own fireside that had been too long 
abandoned. Once Masson should have cut short her 
matrimonial fancies, Philom^ne \vould hurry away, of 
course, to hide her disgrace at Di^lette; but Madame 
Cr^pin, through having played too close a game, over- 
threw at once her own and Marie’s wishes. 

No,” said she, faintly ; let the proposal come from 
himself.” 

^^You will have to wait a long time for it!” Marie 
thought, but as she had a very honest nature she did not 
once imagine that her ^^no” meant ^^yes,” and she swore 
to Philom^ne as well as to herself that she would keep the 
most absolute silence about it. 

Madame Cr^pin was dumbfounded at this most 
unhoped-for result. 

You will not speak to him about it?” she said again, 
in a doubtful tone. 

I give you my word of honor I will'not speak to him 
of it until you have betrayed }X)ursclf.” 


philom^:ne’s markiages. 


263 


Your word of honor ? ” 

You have itJ^ 

Philom^ne heaved a great sigh. 

Thanks/’ said she, for she was obliged to thank her, 
though greatly against her will. 

Marie arose, heaving another sigh of relief this time. 
After all, she would be sure of sending her cousin home 
to her penates as soon as Masson’s marriage would be 
arranged ; it was only a question of a few more days now, 
and so she busied herself without delay about the prepara- 
tions for her departure. 

^^Are you going away to-morrow?” Madame Cr^pin 
asked, whose eyes were completely dry. 

Yes.” 

Far away ? ” 

Will you spend the night in the railway?” 

‘^No, I shall arrive in the evening.” 

Will you be long away ? ” 

I do not know.” 

I do not understand how your husband can allow you 
to go away alone, in autumn, in such cold weather. He 
ought to go with you.” 

He has something else to do. And then, it is neces- 
sary that some one should remain here, of course.” 

I will be here ! ” said Philom^ne, proudly. 

I am much obliged, but it is impossible. By the way, 
during my absence Masson will take his meals here. It 
annoys me on your account, but it was arranged, and I 
could not foresee — ” 


264 


philom^ne’s marriages. 


It does not matter, my dear,” interrupted Philom^ne, 
beaming with delight; I told you that you could not 
give me a greater pleasure than that of his society.” 

^^All the better, then,” said Marie, in that sort of bad 
humor both angry and resigned, that takes possession of 
us when we see an idiotic person determined to do himself 
harm, in spite of all we have done to prevent him. ^‘Try 
to order them good dinners to console them.” 

Does Masson need to be consoled for your absence ? ” 
said Madame Crepin, maliciously. 

^^Eh! eh! Who knows?” replied Marie, who was 
thinking of Virginie, and of the problematical result of 
her undertaking. 

Her cousin gave her in an underhand way so black a look, 
that the young woman, without having directly perceived it, 
felt a disagreeable sensation run over her. But there was 
no use in looking at Philomene ; her face bore her scrutiny 
without frowning, in a good-natured, inditferent way. 

Let them manage as they can,” said she to herself, 
thinking of the two men. The two together will be a 
strong enough party for her ! ” 

When she at last found herself alone with her husband, 
that is to say, very late at night in their bed-room, she laid 
her hands on his shoulders, and looking him well in the face : 

Guess,” said she to him, ^‘the most surprising, the 
most marvellous, etc., etc., etc., news ! ” 

I never guess,” said Charles, lazily. 

Must I tell it to you ? ” 

I advise you to do so, if you have the slightest desire 
I should know it.” 


thilomene’s marriages. 


265 


Philom^ne is in love ! ” 

Verroy looked at his wife and burst out laughing, and 
covered his face with his hands in order to stifle it, on 
account of the existing circumstances. 

^^That antique turtle-dove!^^ said he. ^^Ah! that is 
splendid ! 

Do you know with whom ? 

AVith whom ? Eh ! parhleu ! with Masson ! ” 

Who told you?^’ asked his wife, surprised. 

I never guess, but I observe. I did not believe our 
cousin capable of such stupidity, but if she is, it can only 
be with Masson. I have suspected it a hundred times. 
What a face he will put on when he knows it!’^ 

Don’t tell him of it, I beg you; I have given my 
word of honor that he shall know nothing about it.” 

Plave you done so, at your age ? Oh I Marie, I 
thought you had more common sense ! ” 

But when she besought me to do so ! ” 

It meant ‘ tell him, I implore you 1 ’ ” 

Well, so much the worse! I promised, and I must 
keep my word.” 

^^And then, he would be too much annoyed, the poor 
fellow ! We will tell it to him when his marriage is 
arranged ; he will have a consolation in his hands at least 
then, and he well deserves it. Philom^ne in love — who 
would have believed it ! But it was sure to be ; she loved 
her husband too much, not to love another afterwards on 
the first opportunity.” 

17 


266 


PH J LOM t X e's M a Uni AG ES* 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

AN ENVOY PLENIPOTENTIARY. 

HE next day, towards six o’clock in the evening, the 



-L train deposited Madame Verroy at a pretty, modest, 
primitive, whitewashed little station, that was in charge of 
some Burgundian officials, who were robust and ruddy, 
like people who inhabit a country where living is not dear, 
and where they drink their wine without water. One of 
these stalwart men received the small ticket which Marie 
presented him as she passed through the gate of a sort of 
poultry-yard fence, that protected the rights of the station 
from the invasion of the populace, and she found herself 
in the most complete solitude. A yellow omnibus with a 
sleepy horse w'as to be seen stationed near in the twilight, 
but no one seemed to trouble himself about her, and 
Madame Verroy went and sat in the omnibus to wait. 

In about five minutes’ time another Burgundian, as 
square of shoulders as the others, came out of a small cafe 
that bore a sign on which was pompously written in large 
letters Cafe de la Gai'e, the which seemed none the less 
asleep than all its surroundings. The man approached the 
omnibus, spoke to his horse, arranged the harness, and 
said : 

Well, my Coco, our duty is done; let us go to sup- 


per.' 


PHILOMi:NE’s MARRIAGES. 


267 


Eh ! cried Marie, just as the good fellow was putting 
his foot on the first step of the breakneck ladder that led 
to the coachman^s seat, that was as honorable as it was 
perilous. 

Some one ! said the other. Excuse me, Madame, 
I did not see you. Are you going to X ? 

^^And you?^^ asked the young woman. 

Coco and I are here expressly for that,^^ said he, with 
a good, hearty laugh ; but we never have to carry many 
travellers there at this season, or at any other, for that 
matter. It is not far off, Madame.^^ 

And, effectively, a few minutes after, the so-called pave- 
ment of the small village was making Marie shake in the 
omnibus like a nut in its shell; and then the omnibus, with 
a great rattling of old iron, went under a porte-cocli^re, and 
stopped in front of a lighted window. 

‘‘Where are we?^^ Madame Verroy asked the brisk, 
tidy little maid, who came to open the omnibus door. 

“At the hotel ‘Du Pigeon d^Or,’ Madame, at your 
service.^^ 

The Pigeon d’Or sheltered the railway station omnibus, 
which would have been an excellent thing for the hotel, 
did it ever bring any travellers in it; but as none ever 
came, its hosts lived quietly on the income that their vine- 
yards brought them, dining well, supping better, never 
putting any water in their wine, and were not far from 
considering the arrival of any one whom they would be 
obliged to shelter as a domestic calamity which disturbed 
them in their comfortable tranquillity. 


268 


PHiLOMi:]srE^s marriages. 


However, Marie looked so pleasant, and such cordiality 
seemed to emanate from her whole person, that the hostess 
unfrowned; and, finally, Madame Masson’s name entirely 
brightened up her countenance. 

Eh ! indeed, yes, I do know her, the good lady ! 
Have you come to see her ? You don’t bring her any bad 
news, I hope ? ” 

^^None in the world,” said Marie; do I look like a 
bearer of evil tidings?” 

No, indeed ! as to that. But, you see, excepting her 
son, who comes to see her sometimes, she never receives 
any visits. A long while ago, her brother, the late Abbd, 
often came here; but, since his death, the poor lady only 
sees the people of the place.” 

^^Does she retire late?” asked the young woman, who 
was impatient to begin her campaign. 

^^She does not sleep much on account of her age; she 
goes to bed early, but as she does not sleep, if you would 
like to see her, nothing is easier ; we will send and tell her 
you are going.” 

Marie thought for a moment, then she wrote on a visit- 
ing card: Madame Verroy, whom Madame Masson, 
doubtless, knows by name, is passing through the town, 
and would like to see her, so as to give her some news of 
her son, whom she saw in good health yesterday in 
Paris.” 

This message was carried by a curly-headed boy, who 
returned galloping and out of breath, and communicated 
to Marie the result of his errand in this succinct form; 


PHILOM^:NE^S MARRIAGES. 


269 


Come at once.” 

Without taking your supper! ” exclaimed the hostess, 
clasping her hands, on a level with her nose, which every 
one knows expresses deep desolation. 

I will take my supper when I return,” said the young 
woman, smiling ; d tantoL^’ 

The hostess was much annoyed, thinking that the supper 
would simmer for an hour, two hours, who knew? perhaps 
longer, on the ashes I But as her husband remarked to 
her: ^^Our trade demands it!” she joined the worthy 
man in the dining-room, where a savory ragout was 
smoking. 

Conducted by the curly-headed boy, Marie soon reached 
a small house, preceded by a little parterre, that was 
ornamented with a large silvered glass ball, placed on 
an old moss-covered stone pedestal, that formed the 
drollest contrast with it. This ball was a present from 
Masson, who, going through the Palais Royal one day, 
stopped before it, saying to himself: have never seen 

anything as frightful as that; I am going to send it to 
mamma. She will be delighted with it.” Which he did 
then and there. 

Marie entered the house. A young servant-maid led 
her to a bed-roorn, that was furnished in old-fashioned 
style, with an alcove-bed hung with very old, light-gray- 
colored damask ; the wall-paper was bright ; the rococo 
arm-chairs offered their twisted arms to those of the visitor; 
and a handsome new lamp, the last present from an 
absent son, illuminated the rosy, tranquil face of an old 


270 


PHILOMi:NE’s MARRIAGES. 


lady, who had regular features, hair as white as silver, and 
who half rose to salute the new-comer. 

^^You do not bring me bad news, I hope, Madame 
said she, in a feeble voice, that was still young and very 
sweet. 

On the contrary,’^ said Marie, approaching. 

The smiling eyes and the young woman’s frank manner 
inspired Madame Masson with confidence immediately; 
but a fresh alarm embittered her new trust. 

do not remember your name,” said she, scrutinizing 
her visitor’s face and clothes, while her hands rested on 
the arms of her chair. 

You know my husband’s better, doubtless ; your son 
calls him Charles, and he passed a month with us this 
summer in Normandy.” 

^^Ah ! you are Charles’ wife!” exclaimed the old lady, 
becoming reassured, and letting herself fall back on the 
cushion that supported her shoulders. am very glad 
to see you. Tell me, is my son well ? ” 

^^Very well; he sent you a thousand tender mes- 
sages ! ” 

Why did he not come?” 

He acts every night.” 

Yes, and he imperils his soul every night the more ! 
Ah ! my poor boy ! If he would only have listened to 
me, he would have been the Cur6 of our parish by this 
time, and it would have been he who would have prepared 
his poor infirm mother for a better life.” 

‘^He had no vocation for it,” said Marie, unable to 


PHILOMiiNE’s MARRIAGES. 


271 


suppress a smile; ^^Iie is thinking -of something quite 
different now; and that is why I have come here.’^ 

^^What?^^ said his mother, drawing herself up, ^^he 
wishes to marry? To wed an adventuress? An actress ?^^ 

No words could render the indignant, contemptuous, 
alarmed accent that Madame Masson gave tliose words : 
^^an actress The very serpent, which it is said tempted 
our mother Eve, could not have inspired her with more 
horror. 

Seeing the ice was broken, Marie plunged bravely into 
the middle of her story. 

^^Yoii have guessed rightly, Madame/^ said she; ^^he 
wishes to marry 

Never, never the old lady exclaimed, wounded in 
her maternal pride. Never will I call one of those 
shameless creatures, who dishonor our sex, my daughter ! 
You can tell him I refuse my consent. He can well wait 
until I am dead, before he inflicts this shame on me ; he 
will not have long to wait.^^ 

We will speak about it presently,’’ said Marie, gently. 
^^Now, I wish to tell you something else, but as the story 
is a little long, you will pardon me if I begin at the 
beginning.” 

Madame Masson, who was still trembling with indig- 
nation, settled herself again in her arm-chair and fixed her 
penetrating eyes on Marie’s face. 

I must tell you,” began the young woman, “ that at 
Di6lette, where we were this summer and where your son 
came to join us, we had an adventure. We have as a 


272 


philom^:ne’s marriages. 


neighbor there an elderly lady, named Madame Aubier, 
who is an excellent Avoman and whom we all love very 
much.^^ 

I know,’^ said Madame Masson ; my son wrote me 
about her.^^ 

He did well ; I am sure that if you knew her, you 
would love her also. One day, or rather one afternoon, 
she set out to make us a visit, was taken on the road with 
an attack of asthma and nearly suflPocated.^^ 

^^Asthma is very dangerous,^^ said the old lady ; my 
brother, the Abbe, died of it; he used some drops that 
were a sovereign remedy for that illness. You cannot 
imagine the marvellous cures they have made ; I will give 
you the receipt for your friend.’^ 

Marie thanked her, saying to herself the while that the 
sovereign drops ought to have prevented the Abb6 from 
dying. 

Madame Aubier,^’ she continued, ^Svas fortunately not 
alone when the attack seized her ; she was accompanied by 
a charming young girl, her goddaughter, who is very fond 
of her, and who passes every year a part of the summer 
with her. Virginie — she is called Virginie — did all she 
could at first for her, and then brought her to our house ; 
ray husband and your son hastened to accompany our good 
friend to her home; the distance was long, and a little 
before reaching there the poor woman fainted, and the two 
gentlemen carried her to her dwelling and we were all 
obliged to pass the night at Di^lette.^^ 

‘‘My son has been well brought up by his mother, 


PHILOMi:NE^S MARRIAGES. 


273 


said Madame Masson, proudly; he knows what is due to 
an aged and respectable woman. I am glad to see that 
the bad life he has lived has not stifled all honest feelings 
in his heart.^^ 

I assure you, dear Madame, that your son is as good a 
man as your maternal heart could desire; few mothers have 
such sons. You are well aware of it, however, for he does 
not prove his affection to you simply in words.^^ 

The old lady acquiesced by a nod with her head, and 
Marie continued her story. 

It would be impossible to tell you, dear Madame, w^hat 
touching care the young girl lavished on her godmother: 
no daughter ever cared for or loved her mother better. 
Virginie Beuroii is not at all an ordinary person ; although 
her father is a simple farmer, a country landowner, and 
gave his only child but a seminary education, she has I 
know not what charm, or rather I do well know what is 
the charm of the purity and virginal modesty, that makes 
her the most attractive person in the world.^^ 

^^She does not need to know so much in order to be an 
accomplished woman,^’ said Madame Masson, with dignity; 

when I married I scarcely knew how to read or write. 
I learned what I know from habit and from the necessity 
of busying myself with my affairs and my housekeeping. 
Later, on account of my son, I have read 'works — works 
of another kind/^ 

Marie’s eyes asked in what these works differed from 
those which Madame Masson did not mention. The old 
lady pointed to a small library, where, if it had been 


274 


philom^^ne’s makriages. 


lighter, might have been seen all the modern and classical 
plays in which Masson had taken a part since he entered 
the Conservatoire. As she did not understand, the matron 
added : 

They are the plays in which my son has taken part.^^ 
Within lierself, Marie admired the devoted mother, who 
could not help procuring for herself the works of damna- 
tion in which her son lost his soul ; but at the bottom of 
her conscience did she really think him so culpable, or did 
she only persist in an opinion she had formerly expressed, 
when under the influence of a more rigid way of thinking? 
This the young woman never knew. 

I return to our adventure,” continued Marie, smiling ; 
^Hhis young girl, as I have said, won all our hearts, and 
it was a real/e^e-day for us when she came to see us; her 
godmother’s illness deprived us of her visits, and we got 
into the way of going to see her almost every day — your 
son went with us, of course — and what Avas strange, 
Madame Aubier became so fond of him, that his departure 
Avas a great sorrow to her.” 

The poor Avoman ! ” said Madame Masson, Avith com- 
placency. 

Tavo months have since passed, and we ha\^e just heard 
that a person living at Di^lette, a man forty years old, 
possessing a veVy modest fortune, and a character that can 
be but little recommended, as far as Ave could judge, has 
asked for, and almost obtained, Virginie’s hand. Imagine 
our sorroAA^ ! ” 

<< Why does he wish to marry this young person ?” said 
the old lady, much interested. 


PHILOM^iNE^S MARRIAGES. 


275 


Because she has some money ! She has eighteen hun- 
dred francs income in government securities, and for that 
man ready money is a desirable thing, as he wishes to 
use it to pay his debts 

^^Is it in three per cents. 

^^No, in five.^’ 

Madame Masson meditated for a moment. 

It is very interesting/^ said she, after a silence, ^^but I 
do not see very clearly what my son has to do with all 
this?^^ 

“It is Virginie Beuron whom your son loves and 
desires to marry,^^ concluded Marie, with truly meritori- 
ous modesty. 

Madame Masson leaned a little forward, examined the 
young woman’s face attentively, then let herself sink 
backward, with a slight sigh, and kept silence. 

The moment when a mother hears that her son is seri- 
ously thinking of founding a family for himself, and 
separating himself irrevocably from the maternal nest, is 
always a painful one. So long as he is not married, she 
may secretly hope, with that egotism that is the founda- 
tion of almost all love, that he will remain a bachelor, and 
will come to pass with her those years of rest that men 
are obliged to take when they have established their lives 
and are growing old. 

If the son — who is always clung to more closely by the 
mother than the father — thinks of marrying, the first 
maternal desire is to find that the young girl possesses a 
great number of faults, so that to withhold her consent 


276 


PHILOMilNE’s MARRIAGES. 


may be an act of wisdom. With what triumphant sweet- 
ness does she then refuse to favor a union that will give 
her child unhappiness ! Never will she have loved him 
so much as at this very moment, when she is sending him 
to despair. 

But when the marriage is acceptable, the young girl 
without reproach, then the mother’s heart — which is 
obliged by reason to accept an end that all desire — suffers 
with an indescribable bitterness ; she experiences the same 
feelings as a sovereign who abdicates — ^she does, in effect, 
abdicate, and not in favor of her son, but rather for a 
stranger who often is hated for this cause, without having 
deserved it, and which in fact cannot be surprising, so 
natural is it to our weak nature. 

Madame Verroy read all these feelings on the old 
woman’s wrinkled face, and she waited patiently till the 
new idea had made its way. After a long meditation, 
Madame Masson raised her eyes, which she had kept cast 
down, and said, in a simple way; 

^‘If I refuse, what will happen?” 

Your son will remain at the theatre, which he likes 
but little, and will try to console himself by those dis- 
tractions that are peculiar to that mode of life.” 

The old lady shrugged her shoulders with a movement 
of anger. 

^^If you accept,”' continued the ambassadress, ^^and if 
you consent to give him a little help, he will leave his 
theatrical career forever.” 

Will he do that?” exclaimed his mother, with youth- 
ful vivacity. 


philom^ne’s marriages. 277 

assure you he will 

Marie then entered into a thousand material details: 
she explained how father Beuron would never accept as 
his son-in-law any man who had not a fortune equivalent, 
at least, to his daughter’s; and that, moreover, Masson, 
leaving the theatre, and having no hope of enriching him- 
self rapidly by the sale of his water-color drawings, could 
not live entirely at his wife’s expense. 

^^But, Madame! ” interrupted Madame Masson, proudly, 
my son is rich ! I have six thousand francs income, of 
which I only spend the third ; this house belongs to me, 
and I have no other heir ! ” 

She stopped, and then added almost immediately: 

have always intended to give my son four thousand 
francs income, in government securities in five per cents., 
Madame, on the day he would leave the theatre. I have 
begged him enough to do it, mon Dieu! but I had my 
trouble for nothing. It seems that Mademoiselle Virginie 
has not had as much difficulty in obtaining what he has 
always obstinately refused me!” 

She does not know that he loves her,” said Marie, 
gently. 

*^Ah ! ” said Madame Masson, with a certain respectful 
tone. ^‘And he — does he know that he is loved?” 

He hopes so.” Here Marie related Lavenel’s pursuit, 
the young girl’s despairing letter, and what Madame 
Aubier had done. You can,” said she, in conclusion, ^Mo 
both of them a great deal of good, or a great deal of harm, 
according as you will be favorable or not to their plans. 


278 


PHILOMi:NE^S MARRIAGES. 


For it is on yourself alone that their happiness depends, 
as there is no doubt that father Bcuron will consent to 
replace an old son-in-law, with but little money, with 
another who is young, amiable and richer.^^ 

This Machiavelian phrase touched a sensitive chord in 
the old lady’s heart, for she smiled without replying. 

Then : We will talk of it again,” said she. I must 
think it over.” 

will return to-morrow,” said Marie, rising, and 
you will tell me \vhat you have decided.” 

If only he had come himself,” said Madame Masson, 
who felt a. desire for finding fault with some one. It 
would have been polite, respectful ; but young men — ” 

He did not dare to do so, dear Madame ! Nothing 
could be more respectful than that fear of displeasing 
you ! ” 

A smile of satisfaction broke upon the old lady’s lips, 
and Marie saw that she had won the game. 

The next morning Madame Masson made some objec- 
tions, but rather for form’s sake than anything else. In 
reality, the idea of having her son leave the theatre deliv- 
ered her from so much pain, and removed from her so 
heavy a weight, that she had carried for such a long time, 
that the sorrow of having a daughter-in-law could not be 
compared to it. And then, this daughter-in-law was a 
simple girl, ignorant of cities and their abominations; but 
what a misfortune that he had not rather chosen a girl 
from her country ! However, on looking at this last ques- 
tion a little nearer, Madame Masson had not been able to 


philom^:ne^s marriages. 


279 


discover one that suited her, which was not astonishing, 
for Virginie herself would have had difficulty in finding 
grace in her eyes had she lived in her town. An old 
proverb says : ^^No one is a prophet in his own country.^^ 
Alas ! the smaller the country, the more difficult is it to 
pass for a prophet in it. 

The night train bore Madame Verroy to Paris, provided 
with an authorization in good form, allowing Masson to 
propose for Virginie Beuron and to marry her — the said 
Masson being able to prove a personal fortune of four 
thousand francs income, in governmental securities in five 
per cents. ! 


280 


PHILOMi:NE’s MARRIAGES. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 


SUCCESS ! 



ARIE had not written since her departure, and 


-TVJ- had telegraphed still less. Sure of the success of 
her mission, she wished to give herself the pleasure of 
enjoying Masson^s delight in all its freshness. She 
arrived about mid-day, w’ent immediately to her house, 
and entered the dining-room, where the two friends 
were breakfasting together, bachelor fashion, and were 
consoling themselves very agreeably for her absence with 
oysters and a partridge. 

‘^Another dozen, Julie!” cried Charles to the maid, on 
seeing his wife enter. 

Very pale, Masson stood up, holding his chair in his 
hands, and looked at Marie, without daring to speak ; the 
young woman held the stamped paper towards him, saying. 
It is done.” 

The poor fellow let his chair fall, caught Madame Ver- 
roy by her shoulders and impressed two great kisses on 
her cheeks, after which he released her, covered with 
shame, and in manner of excuse, turned towards Charles, 
saying to him : 

It was not my fault ; I was too happy.” 

Don^t restrain yourself, my friend ; continue,” said 
Verroy, quite calmly: ‘^she will pass them on to me.” 


philom^:ne’s marriages. 


281 


For five minutes there ensued a volley of questions and 
answers that were quite incomprehensible; however, it 
seemed every one obtained the information he wanted, for 
suddenly a great silence of satisfaction came over our three 
happy friends. Instinctively, Marie turned her head to- 
wards the door, of which some one touched the knob. To 
her great surprise, the maid entered bringing the oysters. 

Well ! where is Philom^ne?^^ asked the young 
woman. 

“ Philom^ne ! She asks where Philom^ne is ! ex- 
claimed Charles, bursting out laughing and throwing 
himself back in his chair. say, Masson, she asks 
where is Philomene ! 

Masson, who laughed also, but more sedately, drew out 
his watch and answered : 

She must be reaching Di^lette at this very moment.’^ 

Marie turned towards Charles to ask an explanation, 
but he, entirely given over to his joy, was rubbing his 
hands together, and seemed in ecstasy. 

It is a surprise I had for you,^^ said he to his wife. 
^^In case you should be obliged to return unsuccessful, it 
was to be a compensation, and if you were to bring good 
news, it was to be the reward you deserved. I selected 
one for you after rny own heart; do you not like it?^^ 

Certainly, yes,^^ Marie answered, gained over by the 
two friends’ hilarity. ^^But how did you do it?” 

I told her that Lavenel wished to get married — and 
not to herself!” 

‘^And she left?” 

18 


282 


philom^:ne’s marriages. 


^^Immediately! Fearing to be late, she waited two 
hours at the station for the departure of the train.^^ 

Well ! but you said the young woman, inconsider- 
ately, turning towards Masson. 

ai?^> 

Yes; what do you say about it?’’ added she, remem- 
bering her imprudent promise. 

I say that unless she had left we would neither have 
had oysters nor partridges — draw the conclusion yourself.” 

swore,” said Charles, ^‘that she should never eat 
oysters in our house; she talked about them every day; it 
was a fixed idea of hers ; so, as soon as she left, I ordered 
some. It was very simply done.” 

They had to go over all the details of the negotiation, 
for Masson could not hear enough of them. He looked at 
the precious paper that assured his life’s happin^ess to him, 
with the eyes of an amateur who has found a rarity ; he 
would have liked to have started at once, in two different 

directions, for Dielette and for X , in order to see his 

mother and Virginie simultaneously. 

My mother is indeed very good,” said he, at length ; 
^Hor since fifteen years I have never given her anything 
but pain.” 

‘^Reassure yourself,” Madame Verroy answered him; 
^^she has certainly had some sorrowful hours, but she has 
also had some very sweet ones as well ; her devotion and 
her maternal pride have fought some terrible combats, but 
pride was conqueror.” 

She then told him about the episode of the library, 


philomMe^s marriages. 


283 


where, on the day following the memorable evening, she 
had discovered in it a number of profane works, become 
sacred ones because her loved son had taken a part in the 
plays they contained ! 

My good mother ! said Masson, overcome ; before 
going to Virginie, I shall go to kiss and thank you.^’ 

Nothing will give her more happiness,^^ said Marie. 

^^And then,^^ added Charles, it will be a good example 
for your children^ — when you have any.’^ 

The afternoon was entirely spent in the composition of 
a letter to father Beuron, and another to Madame Aubier, 
in which the former was to be enclosed. When the work 
was finished to their general satisfaction, Masson took the 
letter to carry it to the post himself, but Charles stopped 
him. 

^^A letter is all very well,^^ said he ; but the question 
will never be ended — we must send a telegram.’^ 

^^A long telegram, then, so that it will be clear.’^ 

Enormous! I will take charge of it; moreover litera- 
ture is my business, and you know nothing about it. 
Well! and Philom^ne: are you not going to write to 
her added he. 

Write to her ! Why ? 

Don’t open your eyes as wide as that ! To give her 
pleasure ! ” 

Would that please her?” 

^^She would be in ecstasy. Imagine an artist who acts 
in plays ! ” 

^^Next year, then,” said Masson; ^^now I have not the 
time.” 


284 


PHILOMilNE^S MARKIAGES. 


He left, and towards ten o’clock in the evening the 
whole theatre was struck with the martial and trium- 
phant tone in which he uttered the words : By heaven ! 
my lords, you have done a sorry task ! ” 

He was so grand, that a salvo of applause was bestowed 
on him by the enthusiasts in the parterre and the gal- 
leries to such a degree, that the people in the fauteuils and 
balconies joined in it without knowing why; even the 
‘‘claque’^ applauded gratis, which, as every one knows, 
never happens, except when everybody has lost his head. 

It was the first and the last time that the rdle of 
Monseigneur, the Duke,” had an ovation. The play 
was only given five times more, and since then it has fallen 
into oblivion — oblivion that is worse than death, so poets 
and dramatic authors say. 


PHILOMilNE^S MARKIAGES. 


285 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

PARIS FASHIONS. 

"YTT^HILE Masson, who was bewildered at a success he 
▼ V had not in the least foreseen, was asking himself 
whether he had not a rabbit^s tail or some other extraor- 
dinary object hanging in the middle of his back, in order 
to explain to himself his wonderful reception, Philom^ne, 
seated before her cold fireside in her house that had become 
damp from having been shut up, was en tete-d-tete with a 
second-rate candle, that was dripping with all its might, 
and was saying to herself, that life was absurd, people 
all stupid, her cousin bad, and Lavenel an idiot. 

This litany consoled her ; but it was one of those things 
that possess a virtue only by being repeated — at least, we 
must believe so ; for she was not happy until she had said 
and re-said it ten times and more. 

It was all very well to be a proprietor in a town like 
Di^lette, to have a house to one’s self on a square, in the 
finest situation, to possess a great many curiosities, brought 
home from lands beyond the seas by a Captain. The 
Captain’s being dead was perhaps an advantage, but in 
certain circumstances it might also be a disadvantage, and 
at the present moment Philom^ne knew not what to decide 
about it. If the Captain had been alive, and if his 
unlucky star had willed that he should have been ashore. 


286 


philom^ne’s mabriages. 


under analogous circumstances, slie would probably have 
sent him to call her cousin Charles to account. But the 
Captain was a clever fellow — although he had not given 
proof of it in marrying Philom^ne; and, doubtless, he 
would have contented himself by going to present his 
compliments to his cousin, in order to have had an 
opportunity of smoking a good cigar and enjoying a little 
glass ^^of something good ^^ with him. 

It was very fine to possess so manymice things, and a 
little garden, and a dress with a train — a present from 
Marie — and two or three hundred francs’ worth of gifts 
shut up in her heavy trunk, and a travelling-bag, bought 
in the Passage du Havre.” (Philomene had recognized 
by this time the social inferiority of game-baskets.) But 
what was all that in comparison to what she had lost? — 
her pleasant Paris life — the far niente of days spent in 
reading novels or in taking walks — the good food — being 
waited upon by servants — and above all, Masson’s pres- 
ence, and the hopes she cherished about him ! 

Philom^ne’s return to Di^lette was in no degree a 
triumphal entrance. She arrived there on a cold day 
at the end of October, in a pouring rain. The yellow 
diligence deposited her and her effects on the square. 
Only after great trouble would the driver, who had drank 
a little drop, consent to drag her trunk as far as her door ; 
and he left her with some rough, joking remarks to her, 
that were but little in keeping with Madame Cr^pin’s 
new pretensions. The irreverent gamins^ who happened 
just then to be at liberty, as it was the hour of their 


philomene’s marriages. 


287 


repast; did not deprive themselves of a laugh, and the 
widow’s threatenings had no other eflPect on them than 
to redouble their merriment. Hardly had she entered her 
house when the mouldy smell, that is proper to rez-de- 
chaussees that have been closed for a long time, nearly 
stifled her, and Philomdne was obliged to confess to her- 
self that her dwelling could not bear any comparison to 
Madame Verroy’s apartment, which fact was another 
source of bitterness to her. 

After a short space of time, consecrated to the embel- 
lishment of her person, Madame Cr^pin went out to make 
a few visits. Too prudent to give occasion for indiscreet 
commentaries, she began with two or three indifferent 
friends, if these two words may be united. In order to 
dazzle her society, and to inspire from the beginning 
those whom she honored with a visit with new respect, 
she had put on a cloak made in the last fashion, a present 
from her cousin, and her handsomest bonnet. But the 
effect this display produced was exactly opposite to that 
which she had hoped. 

‘^Oh, what a droll cloak!” said her first friend to her. 
^^Is that the fashion in Paris, to bind one’s self up in 
clothes like that? I don’t know, but it seems to me if 
I were in your place I would be ashamed to let my legs 
be so plainly seen under my dress ! ” 

At her second visit, it was her bonnet that found no 
grace in the eyes of a judge who was equally severe, so 
that Philom^ne was not in the most brilliant humor when 
she presented herself at Madame Aubier’s. 


288 


philomI:ne’s marriages. 


The latter received her as though she had never 
left Di6lette ; however, a sort of coldness was apparent 
in her welcome. Although she was in reality innocent of 
LaveneFs freak, still, if Philom^ne had remained at home, 
the old gallant would not have carried his devotions 
elsewhere, 

Madame Aubier confined herself, however, to question- 
ing her about her travels, and the widow took a long while 
in saying over the rosary of her delights. Masson’s name 
was introduced so often, and so naturally in her story, that 
the old lady finally said to her : 

^^Did you see him, then, very often?” 

^^Almost every day,” replied the half-consoled Arte- 
mesia. 

Is he well?” 

Very well ; I have never seen so amiable or so good- 
tempered a man.” 

Madame Aubier sighed. Was her little Virginie 
already forgotten? She asked herself, if she did right 
in confiding the secret of her young heart to friends of 
such recent date, and to a young man who had, perhaps, 
become quite indifferent to her. 

^^He took me to the theatre,” Philom5ne continued, 
blushing with pride, ^^he showered kindnesses upon me, 
and he came to see me when I was alone in order to amuse 
me. Ah ! he is a well brought-up young man, and one 
who has a deal of heart ! His greatest desire is to settle 
in our country, and I would not be astonished if some day 
or other he should marry a woman from this place.” 


PHILOMi:NE^S MARRIAGES. 


289 


The old lady looked Pliilom^ne full in the face, in order 
to try to penetrate her thoughts. Could Madame Verroy 
by any chance and contrary to all probabilities have made 
a confidante of her cousin ? The widow’s modest blushes 
and self-assurance calmed the anxiety of Virginie’s god- 
mother on that point immediately, but another idea entered 
her mind : Philorn^ne seemed very happy — Could Mas- 
son? — But the absurdity of such a thought seized Madame 
Aubier so strongly that she could not help smiling. 

There is nothing to laugh at in that,” said the widow, 
bitterly; my cousin Charles took his wife from Granville; 
we are not more uncivilized here than at Granville, I 
presume !” 

Oh ! no ; on the contrary,” replied Madame Aubier, 
with increasing merriment. 

Moreover,” continued Philom^ne, there would be 
nothing surprising in the fact, that a young man like Mon- 
sieur Masson should prefer a serious woman, as a contrast 
to his mode of life; people who live a great deal in the 
world, you know, like to have their own homes tranquil ; 
he would love a little, quiet home — ” 

'^Without children?” said the old lady. 

Yes, without children — they make a noise ; he would 
like a serious woman, not one of those young girls 
who always wish to be in love. Monsieur Masson is a 
good fellow; have you never remarked how much he 
resembles my late husband?” 

Never ! ” said Madame Aubier, scarcely able to contain 
•herself. 


290 


PHILOMilNE’s MAERIAGES. 


The resemblance is astonishing ! Therefore, I felt an 
affection for him immediately, the first time I met him ; 
and then, he is so well-bred ! 

The old lady felt the necessity of making a diversion, 
for she was no longer mistress of herself and feared to 
burst out laughing. 

^^Have you seen Lavenel?^^ said she, without any 
oratorical preliminaries. 

said she, have not seen him. What is he 

doing 

I do not know; I suppose he is busy with his affairs.^^ 
Madame Cr6pin reflected for an instant ; then with the 
tact that characterized her she said to herself that Madame 
Aubier was not a gossip ; that she might ask her a few 
questions without running the risk of having them carried 
around the village. 

I have been told that he is seeking to marry a young 
girl; is it true 

have heard something to that effect,^^ replied the 
impassible old lady, ^^that he is seeking some one, but it is 
not a young girl.^^ 

Philomene opened her eyes wide. 

The person has been named to me,^^ continued Madame 
Aubier, while her visitor tried to divine the chosen one’s 
name without succeeding; ^^and I have indeed no reason 
for hiding from you that it was yourself.^^ 

^^Ah ! I ! What an idea,’^ said Madame Cr^pin, annoyed 
beyond all possibility with this unforeseen conclusion. 

will not hide from you,” continued the pitiless 


PHILOMi^KE’s MARRIAGES. 291 

matron, ^^that it has been a great deal talked about, and 
that I was anxious to have you return, so as to put an 
end to these rumors by a good marriage. The reputa- 
tion of widows is as fragile as that of young girls, and 
perhaps even more so. Besides, you are right to have 
accepted him ; it is a good match for you — 

‘^It is just as good for any one else,^^ Philomene mur- 
mured in the sullen tone that was one of her charms; ^^if 
it was for this that my cousin disturbed me — 

^^What!^^ exclaimed Madame Aubier, who had, how- 
ever, heard very well, ^^do you not wish it? Is this plan 
only simple gossip, by any chance? You must take 
Lavenel to task for the harm he has done your reputation, 
for I can assure you, it was he who has talked about it to 
everybody. There is no one who does not know of it.’^ 
But, Madame Aubier, you must be mistaken ; is there 
not some other marriage on hand?^^ 

They have not spoken to me of any other,’^ said the 
old lady, crossing her hands on her knees with a quiet 
air ; she said nothing untrue, for they had written to her 
about it. 

Philomene remained thoughtful ; her mind was losing 
itself in a maze of suppositions that were equally disagree- 
able. Some one was making sport of her. Was it 
Madame Aubier, her cousin Verroy, Lavenel, or all of 
them together ? As she raised her head : 

Why, you have left off your mourning!’^ said the old 
lady, maliciously. 

Alas ! it was only too true ! A bow of garnet-colored 


292 


PHILOMiJNE’s MAKRIAGES. 


velvet bloomed on her bonnet, and another one, similar to 
it, at the widow^s throat ; this red was not very red ; one 
might have declared it brown — but after all, brown is not 
mourning, nor even half-mourning. Philom^ne felt she 
was taken in fault ; but she did not remain in that position 
long. 

It is a kind of violet they are wearing now in Paris,” 
said she, with assurance. 

It is an odd violet,” observed Madame Aubier. ^^I do 
not believe the fashion will take here ; it resembles red 
too much for half-mourning.” 

Madame Cr^pin, who was rather discouraged, retired 
without even thinking of asking about Virginie. 

In order to have her mind set at ease, she went towards 
her future husband^s dwelling; this enigma had to be 
solved. As she entered the shop, Madame Lavenel gave 
her a little, cold bow; then she rose and went towards her, 
without showing any desire to kiss her, and then offered 
her a chair. 

^^You have returned, then!” said she; ^^we did not 
expect you so soon.” 

^^Ah!” said Philomdne, stiffly; ^^does my return sur- 
prise you ? ” 

Not exactly ; you were obliged to return some day or 
other.” 

^^Ah ! ” said the widow, in the same manner. 

The two women looked out of the window into the 
street for some little time ; but as the spectacle presented 
nothing very interesting to them, they ceased their con- 


PHILOMfeNE^S MARRIAGES. 


293 


templation almost at the same moment, and their looks 
met, full of secret hostility, which brought upon their 
respective faces the falsest of amiable smiles. 

My son is absent,^^ said the mother. 

‘^Ah repeated our sweet friend for the third time. 

He went away on some business affairs.^^ 

^‘To Pieux?’^ asked the fiancee, who had taken care to 
assure herself in the morning as she passed through the 
town, that no Lavenel whatever had appeared on the 
horizon of Pieux that day. 

The delinquent's mother was not a woman who allowed 
herself to be taken by surprise. She thought Philom^ne 
had probably made inquiries there, and answered ; 

No, in the direction of Flamanville.^^ 

It was in an opposite direction ; Madame Cr4pin had 
nothing to say, and she said nothing. How should she 
catch that cunning woman, whom sixty years of craftiness 
had made impervious to all surprises ? 

How are our friends here ? asked she, hoping to read 
some sign on Madame Lavenel’s face, as she pronounced 
the names of families who had marriageable daughters. 
But it was lost trouble; she did not think of Virginie, 
who lived far enough off not to be considered an inhab- 
itant of Di6lette, and the old woman deserved no merit 
whatever in answering all her questions calmly. 

After having exhausted the list of girls whom a man 
like Lavenel might aspire to marry, Madame Crepin took 
breath. Decidedly, it was not going to be an easy task, 
and she thought she would have done better to have 


294 


PHILOMilNE^S MARRIAGES. 


remained in Paris. What inconsiderate impulse had urged 
her to leave? Would it not have been better to have 
awaited Marie’s return, and the result of some decisive 
meeting with Masson ? 

Yes, but marriage with Masson was still in an Utopian 
state; it was a golden dream, but only a dream, whilst 
Lavenel’s betrayal was a reality, unless it were a mystifi- 
cation. In that case, Verroy was the last of men to have 
thus played with Philom&ne’s too confiding heart. 

How are affairs going on ? ’’ asked Madame Cr^pin, in 
order to establish a bridge between herself and Madame 
Lavenel, who, for the moment, seemed to her like a steep 
and unattainable island, which she would be imprudent to 
abandon. 

Badly ! ” replied Lavenel’s worthy mother, laconically. 

Badly ! Then, certainly, Verroy was not wrong. Never 
during the time when she desired Philomene as her 
daughter-in-law, had affairs gone badly ; there must, then, 
be a complete change in the old woman’s feelings, to have 
brought about this avowal or untruth. 

Badly? Have they become worse since my de- 
parture ? ” said the outraged fianch. 
great deal ! ” 

If you have need of a little money,” Madame Cr^pin 
hastened to say, I have a few hundred francs at your 
disposition.” 

^^Have your bills been paid you?” said the old lady 
with an absent look fixed on her prospective daughter- 
in-law’s garnet-colored velvet. 


0 


PHILOMi:NE^S MARRIAGES. 


295 


but I have a little hoard, nevertheless.^^ 
observed Madame Lavenel, ‘^you have very 
good luck,^^ and she sighed deeply. 

Silence came at this word, and Philomene felt powerless 
to revive the conversation. Disconcerted, she rose. 

Till one of these days,’^ said she. 

revoir,^^ replied the old woman. For which reason, 
Madame Crepin, sitting alone in the evening in her damp 
dwelling, en tHe-d-tete with her chimney that persisted 
in smoking abominably, abandoned herself to sombre- 
colored thoughts, and to a general antipathy to the human 
species. 

Just as she was going to bed, in default of any other 
consolation, a well-known step resounded heavily on the 
deserted square. She listened ; it was Lavenel ! Was he 
coming to see her? Was he glad she had returned? 
She had almost a moment of friendly feeling for her be- 
trothed, of whom she had thought so little the day before, 
because he was bringing a welcome to her in her loneli- 
ness. The steps died away. Theodore, after having put 
up his horse and carriage, was going home without think- 
ing of her ; however, he saw a candle burning in his future 
wife’s window. This unusual light ought to have in- 
formed him of her return ; but he went by, indiiferently. 

Philomene could no longer contain herself. She sprang 
like a cat from whom one takes her progeny, drew the bolt 
with an astonishing rapidity, and standing on her 
threshold, cried out into the night: 

Lavenel ! ” 


296 


PHIIX)M^]NE’s marriages. 


Lavenel did not, or would not, hear. She made one 
bound into the street, caught her fiance by the arm, and 
dragged him into the house. 

They found themselves face to face in the light, or, 
rather, in the candle^s smoky light, that chiefly illumined 
the end of their noses, an organ with which nature had too 
amply endowed both of them. Their faces assumed enor- 
mous and grotesque proportions in the strange light; 
LaveneFs prune-like eyes became black and bottomless 
abysses, and the cavities of Philomene’s absent teeth 
formed irregular designs on her half-open lips, that were 
trembling with anger; and their two gigantic shadows, 
thrown on the wall and ceiling, were looking motionless at 
each other, like two monstrous faience grifSns, ready to 
devour each other, on the steps of some stairway. 

Lavenel, feeling the necessity of putting himself in 
countenance, wet his thumb and forefinger on his lips, and 
delicately taking the candle-wick between them, snufled it 
with much dexterity, and wiping his hand mechanically 
on his trowsers, reassumed his immobility. Philomdne 
did not seem touched by this attention, and her ex-lover 
felt that the case was grave. 

^‘Who are you going to marry, then, Lavenel ? said 
the offended woman. 

The thrust was a rude one, but her adversary was 
cunning. 

‘^It seems to me,’^ said he, ^^you ought to know some- 
thing about it.’^ 

Philomdne, with an energetic movement of her nead, 


PHILOMi:NE^S MARRIAGES. 


297 . 


indicated that she considered herself as a disinterested 
party in the question, and Lavenel made a gesture in reply 
that signified : Well, then, what do you wish me to say 
to you ? 

know,” said she, using an old procedure that suc-^ 
ceeds nine times out of ten. 

Why do you ask, then ? ” 

To hear you say it.” 

Lavenel expressed by a gesture of his left hand that 
this desire seemed futile to him ; but he kept silent. 

Speak, then ! ” exclaimed Philom^ne, exasperated. 

^^It is not worth while, since you have some idea that 
you do not tell me, and you get offended at what I say 
to you.” 

Without stopping to notice that he said nothing dis- 
tinctly, Madame Crepin measured her adversary’s strength 
in her mind, and took another tactic. 

When shall we be married ? ” said she, in a cross 
tone, that contrasted strangely with those words that were 
so full of sweet hopes. 

When you choose,” Lavenel replied, with perfect 
indifference. 

“Would you like our banns to be published on 
Sunday?” 

“Sunday? It is Saturday to-day, and the Town Hall 
is closed ; next Sunday, if you choose.” 

Philom^ne glanced at him slyly. He looked like a 
whipped dog, but he did not refuse. What, then, was all 
this surprising mystery ? She passed her hand over her 
19 


298 


philomI:ne’s marriages. 


brow, and feared for a moment to find a crack in her own 
brain, that had always been so well organized before. 

Very well,’^ said she, with a sigh, next Sunday.’’ 

Remember, Philom^ne,” said her fiance to her, as he 
turned towards the door, ^4t is you who request it; I am 
not the one who is in a hurry. If something happens, it 
will not be my fault.” 

Something! — what?” said the alarmed widow. 

great many things may happen! You did not 
wish me to speak to people about our marriage ; you went 
to Paris ; you returned without giving any warning, and 
you wish to get married as soon as you arrive, without 
giving people time even to know where they are. All that 
is very fine, and, if I refused, you would say, perhaps, I 
had other reasons for so doing. We will arrange it as you 
say; but if you liave any unpleasantness, it will not be my 
fault.” 

^^How?” asked Madame Cr4pin, who was stunned by 
so long and so extraordinary a speech. What do you 
mean to say ? ” 

I mean to say, that you were in love with the actor, 
and that you went to Paris to try and get him ; you could 
not catch him, and so you came back here ; but that is no 
reason why you should try to quarrel with honest people, 
when it is they, perhaps, who should reproach you.” 

in love with an actor! What actor?” said Philo- 
m^ne, wdth a foot thick of blushes on her face. 

Your cousin’s friend — the one who drew houses on 
paper all last summer. For all you tried to hide it, 


PHILOM^JNE^S MARRIAGES. 


299 


you could not help speaking of him on every occasion, 
and you have been seen to change color when he was 
amiable to your cousin or some other person. Now, you 
wish to marry me, that is very well ; but, remember, it is 
you who have asked it, and remember, also, that after your 
journey, which time you have employed, no one knows 
how, I could have every right to refuse.^^ 

My journey ! Refuse ! You are mad, Lavenel ! 

On the contrary, I see very clearly. You ought to be 
ashamed to have lost your head for a man younger than 
yourself. And, as to him, he must be very silly to have 
taken any notice of your airs.’^ 

exclaimed Philom^ne, impelled by a desire to 
save her reputation, that was in danger, did not think 
of me!^^ 

^^And of whom, then ? You were always together.’^ 

A wicked smile passed over the widow’s face. She felt 
she was about to revenge herself for a thousand humilia- 
tions. 

^‘He was paying attention to my cousin,” said she. 

Lavenel looked at her severely. He was a shrewd, 
selfish man, without any delicacy ; but he was not 
wicked. 

You are bad, Madame Cr^pin,” said he to her, in a 
reproachful tone. ^^What you say is not true, and were 
it so, your duty would be to hide it, and not to repeat it. 
Good-evening ; we will have time enough to see each other 
to-morrow.” 

He went away, while Philom^ne, who w^as amazed, 


300 PHILOMi^NE’s MARRIAGES. 

asked herself if some one had not changed her Lavenel. 
He spoke quite a different language the preceding spring. 

There is some woman underneath all this/’ she mur- 
mured between her teeth, and if I can find her out, she 
shall pay me for this dearly.” 

A coarse laugh, that broke the silence of the night, was 
heard on the square, and a rude voice cried : 

‘‘ You are in a hurry, Lavenel ! Here is your sweet- 
heart, returned only this morning, and you could not re- 
strain yourself from going to see her as you came home ! ” 

Lavenel answered some words in a sullen voice, that 
Madame Cr^pin could not seize ; then she softly opened 
her door, just as the interlocutor continued in the same 
tone: 

^^It is true then, that you are hunting two hares at 
once ! One sees you during the day at father Beuron’s, 
and at night at the widow Crepin’s ! ” 

Go to the devil ! ” Lavenel growled, loud enough to 
be heard by all the villagers who were not yet asleep. 

He went off, and Philomene let her door close on her 
fingers, but she did not care. Virginie Beuron ! She had 
never dreamed of that little girl. It was too idiotic to be 
true! With this consoling thought, she went to bed, and 
had abominable dreams, in which Lavenel, Virgiuie and 
Masson were all making sport of her, in the most unseemly 
manner. 


PHILOMi:NE’s MARRIAGES. 


301 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 


A TELEGRAM. 



AVENEL had parried the first thrust, in promising 


-J— ^ only a brief delay in the publication of the banns ; 
but it was only a palliative : he would have to decide on 
some heroic step. Now Lavenel had nothing of the hero 
about him, and extreme measures cost him a great deal, for 
he liked to keep a back door open for himself. He could 
not marry two women at once, and the situation became 
embarrassing. 

He had for Virginie no other feeling than the desire to 
touch her nice little dot of sounding crowns — but he had 
determined to marry her, and the idea suited him well 
enough. As to his old love, Philomene still inspired him 
with the same complex mixture of anger, former passion, 
disdain and rancor; only since she had endeavored to 
blacken her cousin’s reputation, he despised her a little 
more, and since he had accused her of the love he sup- 
posed she felt for Masson, he desired all the more to have 
her for his wife, so that he could revenge himself on her 
for a long series of mortifications and jealousies of various 
kinds. 

At night, when all alone en tete-d-tete with his cotton 
night-cap — for night-caps may be found in our provinces, 
in daily use — Lavenel went over in his mind all his griefs 
against Philomene. 


302 


phtlom^:ne’s marriages. 


^^She is a silly woman/^ said he to himself; ^^she has 
nothing but vanity in her head, and selfishness in her 
heart ; and now, here she comes to upset me in my plans. 
Would she not have done better — 

AVhat ought she to have done that would have been 
better ? 

Here Theodore Lavenel’s tormented mind embarked on 
another ocean of perplexities. To have married Masson ? 
Philomene was alone capable of considering Masson as a 
husband suited to her : the rest of human kind could but 
have been amused at such a thought, and their amusement 
would have been troubled by a kind of consternation at 
the sight of her aberration of mind that was intensely 
absurd. And besides, should Lavenel marry Virginie, he 
would never have forgiven any being whatsoever for hav- 
ing deprived him of Philomene a second time — he wished 
her to remain a widow and that no new honey-moon what- 
ever should illumine her solitary hearth. 

They say that the dog in the manger experiences an 
analogous feeling ; but at least, the honest dog fulfils the 
mission which his master has allotted to him, whereas 
Lavenel fulfilled no mission whatever, except that of 
pleasing himself, and until now he had acquitted himself 
of it admirably. 

Then, what should Madame Cr^pin have done in order 
to avoid all reproach ? 

^^Eh! jparhleu! to have remained in Paris until his 
marriage with Virginie was well and duly celebrated, and 
then — and then — mafoi! so much the worse 


philomJ^ne’s makriages. 


303 


But all tills did not enlighten the situation, and dawn 
appeared before Lavenel had discovered anything better 
than to go to father Beuron^s and force him by reiterated 
pleadings, to fix the publication of the banns for the follow- 
ing Sunday. Then he would see ! 

Lavenel did not think without a little chill of what he 
would see that day, on his Artemesia’s part, who would 
have become an Ariadne — but he had a week to prepare 
himself for it. 

Why the devil does she hold so much to marrying 
me, when all Di6lette knows she is in love with the 
actor said our poor friend to himself again. He 
ignored that jealousy and self-love were more powerful in 
the widow’s heart than the voice of passion itself. 

‘^And then what an unfortunate idea she had to make 
me go to her house at night, just when that drunken 
Mamertin was crossing the square ! He will talk, and it is 
very probable it will do me harm in father Beuron’s eyes ! 
Oh ! but when I shall have Virginie’s papers, there will 
be no way of getting them from me !” 

This thought alone gave Lavenel a little peace, and he 
went to sleep at last, towards sunrise. 

He woke up late, and jumped out of his bed in great 
haste. Was he not to have gone to dine with father 
Beuron that day ? It was only by not losing a minute 
that he would arrive in time. 

While he was hurrying to dress himself with all his 
might, he approached the window to see what kind of 
weather it was, and what did he see? The collector’s 


804 


philom£:ne’s mareiages. 


tilbury, driven by one of the tavern servant-men, carrying 
off as fast as a good horse could trot, Madame Aubier her- 
self, as fat as ever, wrapped up in numberless shawls, and 
her face beaming with delight. 

There is something going on said Theodore Lavenel 
to himself, who upset everything around him in his con- 
sternation, and lost a quarter of an hour in disengaging his 
suspenders that w^re terribly entangled. 

In spite of his haste, half-past eleven o’clock sounded 
on the old, cracked town-clock before he had finished har- 
nessing; he climbed into his camofe, whipped liis horse 
and set off at full gallop. At the end of twenty minutes 
his horse lost a shoe, which obliged him to go at a more 
quiet gait, and he arrived at father Beuron’s in a piteous 
state, an hour behindhand and very vexed. As he entered 
the room he saw a sight that stopped him on the threshold. 
Madame Aubier, seated near Virginie’s father, was tapping 
him gently on his left hand, in order to engrave the better 
in his mind the phrases she was reading out loud from a 
piece of singular-looking blue paper which Lavenel, thanks 
to his worldly knowledge, recognized as a telegram. Vir- 
ginie, rosy and smiling, was leaning her hands on her 
father’s shoulder, resting her chin in them, and her 
lovely eyes were carefully following the characters im- 
printed by the machine on the small bands of white paper. 
Madame Beuron, who was less cross than usual, wore 
rather a pleased look, and what was miraculous, they had 
not yet thought of dining, although it was long past one 
o’clock. 


philom^:ne’s mareiages. 305 

The noise that Lavenel made as he entered changed this 
pretty picture with astonishing rapidity; their brows 
became clouded and their looks disturbed, but Madame 
Aubier recovered herself very quickly. 

Good-morning, Master Lavenel,^^ said she over her 
spectacles to the new-comer, and then continued her 
reading. 

Madame Masson asks of Monsieur Beuron his daugh- 
ter’s hand for her only son and heir, Eugene. She gives 
her son the furniture for his house, and an income of four 
thousand francs in government securities in five per cents., 
and does not demand any other dot than that which the 
young lady will inherit from her mother’s property. Do 
not lose a moment ; the necessary papers are sent by mail, 
Reply by telegram. Answer paid, forty words.” 

Veeroy.” 

Lavenel listened, and what was worse, understood per- 
fectly. 

What is that?” said he, approaching. 

it is a telegram I received a short time ago,” answered 
Madame Aubier, showing him the paper. 

^^That?” said Lavenel, incredulously, ^Ghat is not a 
telegram : it is much too long for one ! ” 

This observation nearly compromised everything : 
father Beuron, struck with the justice of the argument, 
cast a doubtful look on the paper, and then on Madame 
Aubier, and repeated : 

^^In truth, it is much too long for one I” 


306 


philomI:ne’s marriages. 


With an impatient movement Madame Aiibier drew out 
of her pocket the torn envelope which bore her name and 
the word Telegram. 

^^And this/^ said she, ^^what is this?^^ 

It is true, it is a telegram,^^ replied father Beuron. 

Laveuel felt that he had lost the first throw. 

But it is much too long for one ! he obstinately 
repeated; telegrams never contain more than twenty 
words ; I have sent some — they cost twenty sousT 

There is four francs worth on this ! ’’ replied Madame 
Aubier, triumphantly; ^^and forty sous for the answer 
pre-paid — that makes six francs.’^ 

They are very rich,’^ murmured the grain merchant, 
bitterly, beaten for a second time. 

Madame Masson stops at nothing, where her son is 
concerned,’^ said Madame Aubier. ^AVell! Beuron, come, 
is it settled 

But,’^ said the landowner, I have almost promised 
Lavenel — 

^^Almost ! You entirely promised me, and I have come 
to get the papers for the publication of the banns.^^ 

But the little one did not wish it ! observed Madame 
Aubier. 

Virginie raised her head proudly and gave Lavenel a 
negative sign which was impossible for him to mistake, 
never wanted it,’^ said she in her clear voice. 

Come, Madame Beuron, you promised to help me,’^ said 
Lavenel, in extremity, turning towards the step-mother. 
What do you want me to say?^^ replied the latter; 


philom£:ne’s marriages. 


307 


you asked for a dot^ the gentleman takes her without one; 
we will therefore gain three thousand francs, and that is 
worth considering/^ 

^^And then/^ said Madame Aubier, ^^he has four thou- 
sand francs income in five per cents. ; that is nice ; one 
knows what it is, whilst in business there are always ups 
and downs.^^ 

Lavenel irresolutely rubbed his two thumbs together for 
a moment. 

Well, if that is the case,^^ said he, ^^then I shall go 
home. Good-morning, gentlemen, ladies and the com- 
pany 

^^Why, no,^^ said father Beuron, ^^you need not get 
angry on account of this : stay and eat some soup with us ; 
you will not marry our daughter, but that is no reason 
why we should quarrel.’’ 

Lavenel hesitated for an instant; then taking it into 
account that he had not four thousand francs income, he 
concluded by thinking that these people had done rightly, 
and that had he been in their place, he would have done 
the same ; besides, had he not given the example of it in 
leaving Philom^ne for Virginie, without any other excuse 
than his better interest? He sat down beside Madame 
Aubier and took his part at the feast. 

Virginie’s godmother did not lose any time in needless 
compliments. As soon as the cloth was removed she left, 
and as she had a kind heart, she brought back Lavenel in 
the collector’s tilbury, leaving the tavern servant-man to 
drive home the lame mare slowly. Madame Aubier went 


308 


philom^:ne’s marriages. 


to the telegraph-statioa to send off her answer, whilst the 
rejected admirer returned to his mother to tell her of his 
mischance. 

It is unfortunate,^^ said the old woman, but I felt 
sure the little Beuron would not many you. They are 
obstinate, those girls, that are brought up like duchesses, 
and they are worth nothing at all at housekeeping. What 
are you going to do?^^ 

I am going to see Philom^ne,^^ replied the clear-headed 
man, t‘and to-morrow morning at that. I snubbed her 
last night; it will have done her good.^^ 

It had not done her good, contrary to LaveneFs sur- 
mises. He had hardly left her dwelling before, drawing 
towards her the Captain’s portfolio, which served on great 
occasions, Madame Cr^pin abandoned herself to the most 
profound meditation. After thinking for about half an 
hour, she found herself sufficiently prepared, and dipping 
her pen in some muddy ink, she wrote four great pages 
without stopping to take breath, in which orthography 
abandoned itself to some perilous flights, but wherein 
feeling overflowed in such a way as to make one forget 
such small clouds on a sky of tenderest azure. 

After having finished her letter, without taking the 
trouble to copy it, for Philomtme had never any doubts 
about herself, she wrote the address with a bold hand, 
passed her tongue delicately over the glue on the envelope, 
closed it, put a stamp on it upside-down, and then con- 
templated her work with evident satisfaction. 

The letter made a very good effect on the portfolio, by 


philomI:ne’s marriages. 


309 


the vacillating light of a dull candle, but it had not been 
written to remain there. It was not late. Philom^ne, 
without taking the trouble to throw a shawl over her 
shoulders, went straight to the letter-box, that modest and 
discreet confidant of all secrets, and let her work disappear 
in the little gulf that is always wide open. 

^^Ah ! said she, as she closed the door and pushed the 
bolt, ‘‘they wish to prevent my attaining my ends ! Well, 
my friends, although you made me leave, you will not 
have the last word ! 

When Lavenel, faithful to his determination, presented 
himself at the widow’s house, he went to offer peace, and 
he found war. 

“ What ! ” said she to him, “you come here, after the 
things you said to me day before yesterday, and you think 
I am in a humor to support it? Go where you are well 
received ! Go to Virginie Beuron ! I saw you go off 
yesterday, and then return with Madame Aubier; she does 
not hide herself when she goes to see her goddaughter! 
Return there : that is the best thing for you to do.” 

“Philom^ne,” returned Theodore Lavenel, “you do not 
know what you are saying. I did go to father Beuron’s 
yesterday, it is true, and I did not hide myself, for one 
has a right to go where business calls one — but it was not 
for Virginie.” 

“And for whom, then?” 

“For no one!” 

Philomfene, for all answer, snapped her fingers disdain- 
fully, and turned her back on her interlocutor. This 


310 


PHII.0M^:NE’S MARRIAGES. 


latter, who was vexed, had a stroke of genius. He could 
humiliate the widow more than she had ever humiliated 
him — with one word he could both clear himself and give 
her intense pain. How could he resist it? And you, dear 
readers, would you not have done the same in his place? 

The proof,’’ said he, softly, looking at her sideways, 
the proof that I do not go there for Virginie is, that I 
can tell you a piece of news — ” 

Philomene, overcome by curiosity, turned her head a 
little. 

She is going to be married.” 

^Ah !” said Madame Cr^pin, turning round entirely. 

You do not know to whom?” 

^^No.” 

You cannot guess?” 

Philomene, who prided herself on her perspicacity, 
sought a little but found nothing. 

Do you wish me to tell you ? ” 

‘XVtainly.” 

‘^To your friend. Monsieur Masson.” 

^At is not true!” cried Philomene, springing forward. 
It is not true ! ” 

She leaned on the corner of her bureau, but she raised 
her arm at once, for the sharp angle of a pointed shell, 
placed there for people to see, cut her elbow. She wished 
to put on a bold face, and to hide the trembling which 
made her totter on her feet ; she seized a chair violently, 
struck it on the floor and sat down on it. 

It is perfectly true,” continued Lavenel, enchanted at 


philom^:ne’s marriages. 


311 


his success. ^^They have adored each other since last 
summer, it seems. Monsieur Masson is rich ; his mother 
has given him an income so that he can leave the theatre.’^ 

Masson rich ! Masson with an income ! And it was 
Virginia who was going to have all that ! 

It is not true ! the widow repeated, faintly, clinging 
to her incredulity like a drowning man to a straw floating 
on the water. 

Nothing is truer. He was in such a hurry — poor 
Monsieur Masson — that he sent his proposal by telegraph, 
and they answered him in the same way. That is an odd 
way of arranging marriages! Hey! what do you think 
of it, Madame Cr^pin ? 

Pliilom^ne was thinking of her letter that had probably 
arrived, and was saying to herself that she would give La 
Heuserie to be able to get it back again before it was un- 
sealed. But, like many other institutions, the post does 
not return what is confided to it — unless it may be money 
— and in that respect it does differ from other institutions. 

I say that it is a lie and a calumny,^^ said she, with 
her face on fire, and her throat dry. 

lie — iff I had not been witness to the whole affair, 
I should say it might be — but a calumny — Madame 
Cr4pin, tell me how it is a calumny, and against whom ? 
Marriage does wrong to no one ! By the way, it is ou 
Sunday that our banns will be published, at the same time 
with Monsieur Masson’s and Virginie’s, will they not?” 

‘^Neither Sunday nor ever!” exclaimed Philomene, in 
a fury. Go to the devil ! I will not marry you.” 


312 


PHILOMi:XE'S MARRIAGES, 


^^And you will do well, ma foi!^^ cried Lavenel, exas- 
perated ill his turn by jealousy at seeing his betrothed’s 
anger, which he attributed, not without cause, to the depth 
of the wound he had made. I am not one to marry a 
woman who is silly enough to fall in love with a man 
younger than herself, and as much suited to her as our 
cock is for planting peas! ’’ 

Irritated beyond all human speech, Madame Cr6pin 
threw her front door wide open, and drew aside, to indicate 
to Lavenel that he would do well to leave. 

Your servant ! ” said the latter, giving a flourishing 
bow with his hat. 

He passed out quickly, with his hands in his pockets, 
and went off with a conquering air until he reached his 
house, where having entered, and being sheltered from 
indiscreet eyes, he began to kick things about on every 
side, until all the chairs were on the floor. After which, 
having no servants, he picked them up, one by one, put 
them on their feet, sat down on the best one, and mused 
pitifully. 


PHILOM^:NE’s MARRIAGES. 


313 


CHAPTEE XXXVII. 

AN EXTRAORDINARY LETTER. 

ADAME AUBIER’S telegram reached the Ver- 



JAJL roys’ house too late in the evening for them to 
send and inform Masson about it. It was not until the 
next day that they sent for him, and about eleven o’clock 
in the morning, our friends being gathered together in the 
dining-room, gave themselves over to all the joyous mer- 
riment with which the success of their undertaking inspired 
them. Masson was wild to leave, and the three days of 
patience to which he was condemned seemed interminably 
long to him. Suddenly he drew a letter from his pocket, 
and presented it to Marie. 

I received that this morning,” said he, and I under- 
stand nothing about it Can you explain this sudden 
friendship, and these ’plaints of a prisoned bird to me ? ” 
He presented a letter, in its torn envelope, to Madame 
Verroy, who, at her first glance, and even before seeing 
the handwriting, exclaimed : 

Philomene ! I recognize her way of wiping the blots 
with her little finger; there is one on the back of the 
envelope, in the corner.” 

^^It is true! I had not remarked it,” said Masson, 
laughing. Is it an inveterate habit with her, then ? ” 

She could not write without it ; she would think 


20 


314 


philomi^ne’s marriages. 


she had made faults in orthography else/^ Charles an- 
swered. 

^^Ah ! there are some/^ continued Masson ; but read 
it. The contents are curious — not more so than its 
appearance, however.’^ 

Marie read out loud : 

^‘Dear Monsieur Masson: 

I promised, when I should be far away from you, to 
write to you — 

Did you ever ask her to do so ? 

Never in all my life.’^ 

It is a purely gratuitous promise, and, therefore, the 
more meritorious,’’ said Charles. ^‘ Continue, my dear 
wife.” 

— I keep my promise, although I have nothing very 
interesting to tell you. I found my house and all my small 
surroundings as they were before I left, excepting that 
everything was very damp — ” 

She ought not to have stayed away so long,” Charles 
interrupted. Continue.” 

I have not been here long, and yet it seems to me 
that it is a century since I returned ; the time that I 
spent in Paris is like a dream to me, and I much fear 
that I can never accustom myself to Di6lette again — ” 

blot wiped out with her finger,” said Charles, who 
was looking at the letter from the corner of his eye. 


philom^^ne’s marriages. 


315 


Charles, it is not a blot; it’s a word scratched 

out.” 

Go on ; so much the better.” 

— Everything seems dull and ugly to me here; in order 
to like this place, I am obliged to recall to myself, that 
you found extraordinary beauty in it, which I do not dis- 
cover. Ah ! my dear friend, life is very hard for a woman 
alone in the world, and isolated, whose tastes place her 
above the society that surrounds her — ” 

^^Ah ! ah ! ah ! ” said Charles. 

And who has known no happiness for many years, 
except the time she passed in Paris — ” 

Why, she writes like Madame de Sevign6 ! ” 

— The souvenir of the friendship you showed me, the 
delicate attentions that you paid me — ” 

What ! did you pay her delicate attentions ? That’s 
fine! I shall tell Virginie about it.” 

^^Let me enjoy the reading, please,” said Masson, with 
the most amusing shrug of his shoulders. In your wife’s 
mouth, those phrases take a poetical turn that I did not 
find they possessed on paper.” 

— Is the only joy I know at present, and I love to 
recall those delicious moments. No, I do not like what 
surrounds me here ; I cannot find anything beautiful in 
the gray stones of the cliffs, or the sands of the downs ; 
what I would love, were I not condemned to live in a 


316 


philom^:ne’s marriages. 


place I detest, among people who cannot understand me, 
would be a little, modest house in Paris, where I could 
have the happiness of seeing you sometimes, and to know 
that I had a few friends about me, M^hilst here I am all 
alone — 

^^And Lavenel, what has she done with him ?” said the 
incorrigible interrupter. 

— You will answer me, will you not, my dear friend? 
I have had confidence in your friendly words ; you will 
not cause me the sorrow of a disappointment that would, 
perhaps, be the bitterest of all the sorrows of my life! 

Your faithful friend, 

^‘PniLOMi^NE Crispin, 

^^nee Hensey.^^ 

What does that mean ? ’’ repeated Masson, with his 
eyes lost in vacancy, and his chin in the palm of his hand. 

You, also, are too stupid ! ” said Charles, contempt- 
uously. 

^^How? People declare that I have some wit — just a 
little.’^ 

You are too stupid, if you do not see what that turtle- 
dove in quest of a mate wishes.^^ 

^AVhat?^^ 

Don’t you see that she wishes to marry you, body and 
soul ? ” 

I?” exclaimed Masson, taking his head in his hands. 

I ? ” he repeated, in a vexed tone, that made his two 


philom^:ne’s marriages. 


317 


friends burst out laughing. ^^Oh! the old idiot! But, 
say, it is nothing but an absurd joke.^^ 

‘^Nothing is truer in the world.” 

Seriously?” 

^^On my word of honor!” 

Masson took his hands slowly away from his head, 
which they had been still clasping, and let them fall on 
his knees with such a despairing expression that the young 
people’s hilarity redoubled. 

What did I ever do to her,” said he, that she should 
so turn me into ridicule?” 

That, my friend,” said Charles, “ is a secret between 
your conscience and yourself.” 

What must I answer her?” said the unfortunate 
fellow. 

will take charge of it ; I am going to write to her : 
Dear Cousin; 

‘^Masson has received your letter; he begs me to thank 
you for the devoted affection you have been so kind as to 
show him ; he cannot do so himself, because he is absorbed 
with the preparations for his marriage with Virginie 
Beuron — a marriage that does not surprise you, I am 
sure; for, with your usual cleverness, you must have 
suspected their plans — ” 

Charles ! ” exclaimed Marie, you are pitiless.” 

Justice is serene and implacable, my dear; that is 
what makes its strength and its beauty! The plaintive 
Philomfene will soon hear from me !” 


318 


hilomI:ne’s maeriages. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 


TURNING THE TABLES. 


OWEVER, it was not Charles who undertook to 



— L announce Masson^s marriage to the unhappy 
Madame Cr^pin, but Marie, rather, who tried to make the 
best of it ; but although she hid the bitter pill under a 
quantity of sweetest preserves, the fact existed, and the 
blow was rude. 

When she received the letter, Philom^ne remained for 
a long while motionless and dumb ; the anger of having 
allowed herself to be so grossly mistaken, the jealous fury 
of a woman who is disdained for another, the realization 
of the ridicule she had so weakly brought upon herself, 
put her into such an indescribable, violent state of mind, 
that she might have died of suffocation from its effects, 
had not Heaven reserved another destiny for her. In 
spite of Lavenefs affirmations she had doubted it all till 
then — not daring to go to see Madame Aubier, and 
refusing to believe the village gossip. This blow, although 
it had been foreseen, affected her tremendously. 

When she had recovered her calmness a little, her first 
impulse was to tear her cousin’s letter into a thousand 
pieces and to stamp on them with rage ; then she bestowed 
upon her the least flattering epithets possible. It was 


philomMe^s marriages. 319 

Marie’s faulty certainly. Had she not persisted, in spite 
of Philoinene’s advice, in inviting that silly Virginie to her 
house, who now took from her something much more than 
the object of her romantic love — the crowning of a life 
full of wasted ambition ! 

The blow was a terrible one ; all the more, however, 
because Madame Cr6pin would never really feel it, thanks 
to the thick iron-coating of pride that protected her. 
Marie’s pity, in announcing the news to her in a thousand 
cautious terms that were full of delicate feeling, had all 
been in vain ; her kind words of consolation, of reason and 
affection were all lost upon her; her cousin did not in the 
least appreciate them ; far from that,, she found an express 
insult, a marked determination to lay blame upon her 
in them. v 

What would she not have given to have been able to 
have tahen back her useless confession? But accom- 
plished facts are pitiless, and neither let themselves be 
softened nor bribed, and the confession subsisted. 

Bah ! ” thought Philom^ne, if she ever speaks to me 
about it again, I will tell her that it is she who is 
deceived, and that I never spoke to her about it.” 

Full of a noble pride, the result of her strength, she 
took her best pen, and with the addition of a few blots, 
she wrote what follows : 

My Dear Marie: — I have just received your letter, 
and for more than three hours I have been sitting in the 


320 


PHILOMi^NE^S MAEEIAGES. 


same place reading it over, and asking myself if it were 
really you who wrote it. What I told you in regard to 
Masson has been interpreted by yourself in a way so 
distant from my thought, that I ask myself whether I am 
not dreaming? Who ever could have thought that I 
had any other feelings for him, save those of a sister? 
Certainly, I did tell you that he resembled my husband, 
and that that resemblance had inspired me with the deepest 
affection for him, but there was nothing in that to give 
you cause for filling me with shame by attributing feelings 
to me of which I am incapable. 

hope sincerely you have had enough good sense 
not to have told any one about the suppositions you have 
made, and the feelings you have lent me in your imagi- 
nation, for, although I believe those who know me are 
clever enough not to give any credence to such improb- 
able ideas, it would not be pleasant for me to think that 
any one could believe me capable of wishing to marry a 
man younger than myself. Thank Heaven ! I have not 
yet been obliged to blush in any one’s presence, and 
undeserved calumnies should not draw down upon me 
this shame. 

I remain your devoted cousin, 

^^PHILOM^:NE Cr^PIN, 

nee Hensey.” 

When Madame Verroy received this letter she was 
alone. She read it over several times, rubbing her eyes 


PHILOMi^NE^S MAEEIAGES. 


321 


at each phrase ; then she turned it over in all its different 
meanings, but it remained the same thing in no matter 
what light she looked at it, and the young woman not 
being able to make up her mind about the extraordinary 
letter, laid it aside to await her husband^s return. 

Charles read it; and then returned it to his wife, 
smiling. 

^^Does it amuse you?^^ said Marie to him, a little 
annoyed at seeing the effect that what had so upset her 
produced on him. 

I find it very droll and very natural ; yes, it amuses 
me, for her injurious words cannot harm us, and as a 
study it is an interesting subject.’^ 

It is a final quarrel sighed Marie. 

Heaven be praised for it! That woman would 
have eaten up our last farthing if that good Masson 
had not frustrated her. We will be indebted to him 
for this all our lives. Unfortunately, he did not do it on 
purpose.’’ 

I was very fond of her, however,” murmured the 
young woman, regretfully. 

^^You had your trouble for nothing!” her husband 
concluded in manner of eonsolation. ^‘You will love 
Virginie in her stead, and you will benefit by the exchange, 
I assure you.” 

Virginie’s name and memory were a talisman for 
those who knew her. One could not think of her without 
feeling the charm of her sweet beauty and loving heart. 


322 


philomj^ne’s marriages. 


Philom^ne’s image was banished from the fireside where 
she had endeavored to bring sorrow, and no one thought 
anything more about her at the end of a week’s time. 

Madame Cr^pin, however, was a prey to a thousand 
anguishes. She had driven Lavenel away in a moment 
of anger — and now disagreeable reports in regard to her- 
self came back to her. The grain merchant had been 
seen coming out of her house on the fatal night she had 
enticed him there; people spoke about it discreetly, 
but smilingly; her good friends were not sparing in 
their taunts to her, and certain very straight-laced dames, 
in the best society of the place, feigned when they met 
her not to see her, so that they would not be obliged to 
bow to her. 

Must I marry him in order to repair my reputation ?” 
Philom^ne asked herself one day. ‘^1 detest him, how- 
ever, very much. 3Ion Dieu ! how I do detest him ! If 
I catch him I will make him pay for all his disagreeable 
actions.” 

By a touching coincidence Lavenel at that very moment 
whipped his mare who had been newly shodden, for he 
was thinking of Philomene, and the poor beast, who Avas 
trotting her best however, completed the illusion by 
kicking in the shafts energetically, which did not ameliorate 
his condition. 

The two disagreeable persons, whom Providence had so 
admirably designed to punish each other reciprocally for 
their faults, might have remained eternally separated but 


PHILOMi^NE^S MARRIAGES. 


323 


for the intervention of some kind souls. Madame Aubier, 
who had married her goddaughter, and had nothing 
to do while the young couple were on their wedding jour- 
ney, took pity one day on Madame Cr^pin^s emaciated face 
and discomfited expression. This latter was really dying 
from anger and spite. She made allusion to Lavenel about 
his nocturnal interview with his betrothed, and to the 
harm the latter had suffered from it, and profiting by the 
fact that our friend had a pressing need for money, she 
ended by extracting a promise from him that he would 
make a new proposal. 

Then Philomene’s turn came, whom she influenced 
through her self-love and her anxiety about her reputa- 
tion ; moreover, Madame Lavenel, who had returned to 
more maternal sentiments, had showered attention and 
thoughtfulness upon her, so that one fine day the Mayor 
united forever these two beings who hated each other cor- 
dially, and who only had the most mediocre esteem for one 
another. Their home does not pass at Dielette for a small 
paradise. 

A month had passed at this time since Masson and his 
wife, who had returned from their wedding trip in Magon- 
nais, had inhabited a pretty little house that was situated 
nearly on the edge of the beach, in which a thousand 
things unknown to the inhabitants of that country had 
grouped themselves together little by little, and had made 
a charming home. Besides, the room that had been 
Philoraene’s was always ready for them at Monsieur 


324 


philomI:ne’s maeriages. 


and Madame Verroy^s house whenever they had a fancy 
to pass three months in Paris. 

Ask Masson, if you like, whether he regrets the theatre, 
and you will see what his answer will be ! 

Only, and this phenomena has not yet been explained — 

when the pious souls at X in Magonnais congratulate 

Madame Masson on her son’s return to family life, she 
begins her answer by smiling and ends it with a sigh. 
Does she by any chance regret his past renown ? 


THE END. 


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or $10.50 a set, each set is pul up in a neat box. 

Tather and Daughter, $1 75 I The Neighbors, $1 7f 

The Four Sisters, 1 75 1 The Home, 1 75 

Abov^are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 
Life in the Old World. In two volumes, cloth, price, 3 5C 


Abovo Books will bo sent postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


4 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


WILKIE COLLINS’ BEST WORKS. 

Dasil; or, The Crossed Path.. $ I 50 | The Dead Secret. 12mo $1 

Above are each in one large duodecimo volume, bound in cioih. 


The Dead Secret, 8vo 75 

Basil; or, the Crossed Path....... 75 

Hide and Seek, 75 

After Dark, .■ 75 


The Queen’s Revenge, 75 

Miss or Mrs? fO 

Mad Monkton, 50 

Sicrhts a-Foot 60 


The Stolen Mask, 25 [ The Yellow Mask,... 25 [ Sister ll(»sc,... 25 

The above books are each issued in paper cover, in octavo form. 


FRANK FORRESTER’S SPORTING BOOK. 

Frank Forrester’s Sporting Scenes and Characters. Bj Henry Wil- 
liam Herbert. With Illustrations by Darley. Two vols., cloth,...$4 Ot 


EMERSON BENNETT’S WORKS. 

Complete in seven large duodecimo volumes, hound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.75 
each ; or $12.25 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

The Border Rover, SI 75 I Bride of the Wilderness, $1 75 

riara Moreland, 1 75 Ellen Norbury, I 75 

The Orphan’s Trials, I 75 • Kate Clarendon, 1 75 

Tiola; or Adventures in the Far South-West, I 75 

Above are each iu cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

The Heiress of Bellefonte,. 75 ) The Pioneer’s Daughter, 75 


GREEN’S WORKS ON GAMBLING. 

Complete in four large duodecimo volumes, hound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.75 
each; or $7.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Oambling Exposed, $1 75 i Reformed Gambler, $l 76 

Tho Gambler’s Life, 1 75 | Secret Band of Brother^ 1 75 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 


DOW’S PATENT SERMONS. 

Complete in four large duodecimo volumes^ bound in cloth, gill back, price $1.50 
each ; or $0.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 


Dow’s Patent Sermons, Ist 

Series, cloth, $1 50 

Dow's Patent Sermons, 2d 
Series, cloth, 1 50 


Dow’s Patent 
Series, cloth, 
Dow’s Patent 
Series, cloth. 


Sermons, Sd 


Sermons, 4th 


.$1 50 


1 60 


Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.00 each. 


MISS BRADDON’S WORKS. 

Aurora Floyd, 75 I The Lawyer’s Secret, 25 

Aurora Floyd, cloth 1 00 | For Better, For Worse, 75 


Above books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Prices 
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T. B, PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 5 


ALEXANDER DUMAS’ WORKS. 


Count of Monte-Cristo, $1 50 

Edmond Dantes, 75 

The Three Guardsmen, 75 

Twenty Years After, 75 

Bragelonne,. 75 

The Iron Miisk, 1 00 

Louise La Valliere, 1 00 

Diana of Meridor, 1 00 

Adventures of a Marquis, 1 00 

Love and Liberty, (I7y2-’y3).. 1 50 


Memoirs of a Physician, $1 00 

Queen's Necklace, 1 00 

Six Years Later, 1 00 

Countess of Charny, 1 00 

Andree de Taverney, 1 00 

The Chevalier, 1 00 

Forty-five Guardsmen, 1 00 

The Iron Hand, 1 00 

The Conscript, 1 50 

Countess of Monte-Cristo, 1 00 


Camille; or. The Fate of a Coquette, (La Dame Aux Camelias,) 1 50 

The above are each in paper cover, or in cloth, price $1.75 each. 


The Mohicans of Paris, • 75 

The Horrors of Paris, 75 

The Fallen Angel, 75 

Felina de Chambure, 75 

Sketches in France, 75 

Isabel of Bavaria, 75 

Twin Lieutenants, 75 

Man with FTve Wives, 75 


Annette; or, Lady of Pearls,... 75 

George ; or. Isle of France, 50 

Madame De Chamblay 50 

The Black Tulip, 50 

The Corsican Brothers, 50 

The Count of Moret,... 60 

The Marriage Verdict, 60 

Buried Alive, 25 


GEORGE W. M. REYNOLDS’ WORKS. 


Mysteries Court of London,. ...$1 00 

Rose Foster, 1 50 

Caroline of Brunswick, 1 

Venetia Trelavvney, 1 

Lord Saxondale, 1 

Count Christoval, 1 

Rosa Lambert, 1 

W allace, the Hero of Scotland,. 1 


Mary Price, $1 00 

Eustace Quentin, 1 00 

Joseph Wilmot., 1 00 

Banker’s Daughter, 1 00 

Kenneth, 1 Ou 

The Rye-House Plot, 1 00 

The Necromancer, 1 00 

The Gipsy Chief, I 00 

The Mysteries of the Court of Naples, full of Illustrations 1 00 

Robert Bruce, the Hero-King of Scotland, full of Illustrations, 1 08 

The above are each in paper cover, or in cloth, price $1.75 each. 


Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots,.. 75 

The Opera Dancer, 75 

Child of Waterloo, 75 

Isabella Vincent, 75 

Vivian Bertram, 75 

Countess of Lascelles, 75 

Duke of Marchmor.t, 75 

Massacre of Glencoe, 75 

Loves of the Harem, 75 

The Soldier’s Wife, 75 

May Middleton, 75 


Ellen Percy, 75 

Agnes Evelyn, 75 

Pickwick Abroad, 75 

Parricide, 75 

Discarded Queen, 75 

Life in Paris, 50 

The Countess and the Page,.... 75 

Edgar Montrose, 60 

The Ruined Gamester, 50 

Clifford and the Actress, 50 

Ciprina; or, the Secrets, 50 


Above books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price» 
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6 T. B. PETEESON & BEOTHEES’ PUBLICATIONS. 


CHAELES LEVEE’S BEST WOEKS, 

Arthur O’Leary, 75 

Con Cregan, 75 

Davenport Dunn, 75 

Horace Templeton, 75 

Kate O’Donoghue, 75 

fine edition is in cloth at $2.00 each. 

50 I St. Patrick’s Eve, 50 

00 
75 


Charles O’Malley, 75 

Harry Lorrequer, 75 

Jack Hinton, 75 

Tom Burke ot‘ Ours, 75 

Knight of Gwynne, 75 

Above are in paper cover, or a 

A Pcent in a Cloud, 

Ten Thousand a Year, in one volume, paper cover, $1.50; or in cloth, 2 
The Diary of a Medical Student, by author “ Ten Thousand a Year,” 

MES. HENEY WOOD’S BEST BOOKS. 


The Master of Greylands, $1 50 

Within the Maze, 1 50 

Dene Hollow, 1 50 

Bessy Pane, 1 50 

George Canterbury’s Will, 1 50 

Verner’s Pride, 1 50 

The Channings, 1 50 


The Shadow of Ashlydyat, $1 50 

Squire Trevlyn’s Heir, 1 50 

Oswald Cray, 1 50 

Mildred Arkell, 1 50 

The Pved Court Parm, 1 50 

Elster’s Folly, 1 50 

Saint Martin’s Eve, 1 50 


Roland Yorke. A Sequel to “ The Channings,” 1 50 

Lord Oakburn’s Daughters ; or. The Earl’s Heirs, 


The Castle’s Heir ; or. Lady Adelaide’s Oath,. 

The above are each in paper cover, or in cloth, price $1.75 each. 
Edina; or. Missing Since Midnight, cloth, $1, paper cover,. 

The Mystery, 75 

Parkwater. Told in Twilight, 75 

The Lost Bank Note, 50 

The Lost Will, 50 

Orville College, 50 

Five Thousand a Year, 25 

The Diamond Bracelet, 25 

Clara Lake’s Dream, 25 

The Nobleman’s Wife, 25 

Frances Hildyard, 25 

Cyrilla Maude’s First Love,... 25 

My Cousin Caroline’s Wedding 25 


A Life’s Secret, 

The Haunted Tower 

The Runaway Match, 

Martyu Ware’s Temptation, 

The Dean of Denham, 

Foggy Night at Offord, 

William Allair, 

A Light and a Dark Christmas, 

The Smuggler’s Ghost 25 

Rupert Hall, 25 

My Husband’s First Love, 25 

Marrying Beneath Your Station 25 


50 

50 

75 

50 

50 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 


EUGENE SUE’S GEEAT WOEKS. 


The Wandering Jew, $1 50 

The Mysteries of Paris, 1 50 

Martin, the Foundling, 1 50 

Above are in cloth at $2.00 each. 


Life and Adventures of Raoul do Surville. A Tale of the Empire, 


First Love 50 

Woman’s Love, 50 

Female Bluebeard, 50 

Man -of- War’s- Man 50 

25 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brotbcrs, Pliiladelpbia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BEOTKERS' PUBLICATIONS. 7 


NEW BOOKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTHORS. 

The Shadow of Hampton Mend. A Charming Story. By Mrs. Elizabeth 
Van Loon, author of ‘‘A Heart Twice Won/^ One large duodecimo 
volume, in morocco cloth, black and gold. Price $1.50. 

A Heart Twice Won; or, Second Love. A Love Story. By Mrs. Eliza~ 
heth Van Loon, author of The Shadow of Hampton Meud,” and in 
uniform style with it. Cloth, black and gold. Price $1.50. 

Father Tom and the Pope; or, A Night at the Vatican. With Illustra- 
tive Engravings of the scenes that took place between the Pope and 
Father Tom. Paper cover, 50 cents, cloth, black and gold, $1.00. 

EMILE ZOLA’S GREAT WORKS. 

H^lSne. A Tale of Love, Passion and Bemoree. By Emile Zola, author 
of “ The Abba’s Temptation,^^ “ L’Assommoir,” etc. Price 75 cents in 
paper cover, or $1.25 in morocco cloth, black and gold. 

The Abba’s Temptation. A Love Story. By Emile Zola, author of 
*‘H61ene.’^ His Greatest Work. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or 
$1.25 in morocco cloth, black and gold. 

WORKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTHORS. 

The following boohs are each issued in one large duodecimo volume, 

bound in cloth, at $1.75 each, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 


The Initials. A Love Story. By Baroness Tautphoeus, $1 75 

Married Beneath Him. By author of Lost Sir Massingberd,’^ 1 75 

Margaret Maitland. By Mrs. Oliphant, author of ‘‘Zaidee,^’ 1 75 

Family Pride. By author of Pique,^* Family Secrets,” etc 1 75 

Self-Sacrifice. By author of ^‘Margaret Maitland,” etc 1 75 

The Woman in Black. A Companion to the Woman in White,”... 1 75 
Rose Douglas. A Companion to “ Family Pride,” and Self Sacrifice,” 1 75 
Family Secrets. A Companion to ‘^Family Pride,” and Pique,”... 1 75 

Popery Exposed. An Exposition of Popery as it was and is, 1 75 

The Autobiography of Edward Wortley Montagu, 1 75 

The Forsaken Daughter. A Companion to Linda,” 1 75 

Love and Liberty. A Revolutionary Story. By Alexander Dumas, 1 75 

The Morrisons. By Mrs. Margaret Ho.smer, 1 75 

The Rich Husband. By author of “George Geith,” 1 75 

Woodburn Grange. A Novel. By William Howitt, 1 75 

The Lost Beauty. By a Noted Lady of the Spanish Court, 1 75 

My Hero. By Mrs. Forrester. A Charming Love Story, 1 75 

The Quaker Soldier. A Revolutionary Romance. By Judge Jones,.... 1 75 
Memoirs of Vidocq, the French Detective. His Life and Adventures, 1 75 
The Belle of Washington. With her Portrait. By Mrs. N. P. Lasselle, 1 75 
High Life in Washington. A Life Picture. By Mrs. N. P. Lasselle, 1 75 


Above books are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on Receipt of Retail Pricei 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


8 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


WORKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTHORS. . 

The folloioing hooks are each issued in one large duodecimo volume, 
hound in cloth, at $1.75 each, or each one is in paper cover at $1.50 each. 

The Count of Monte-Cristo. By Alexander Dumas. Illustrated, ...$1 75 
The Countess of Monte-Cristo. Paper cover, price $1.00; or cloth,.. 1 75 

Camille; or, the Fate of a Coquette. By Alexander Dumas, 1 75 

Love and Money. By J. B. Jones, author of the Rival Belles,^\.. 1 75 
The Brother’s Secret; or, the Count De Mara. By William Godwin, 1 75 
The Lost Love. By Mrs. Oliphant, author of ** Margaret Maitland,” 1 75 
The Roman Traitor. By Henry William Herbert. A Roman Story, 1 75 

The Bohemians of London. By Edward M. Whitty, 1 75 

Wild Sports and Adventures in Africa. By Major W. C. Harris, 1 75 
Courtship and Matrimony. By Robert Morris. With a Portrait,.., 1 75 

The Jealous Husband. By Annette Marie Maillard, 1 75 

The Life, Writings, and Lectures of the late “ Fanny Fern,” 1 75 

The Life and Lectures of Lola Montez, with her portrait, 1 75 

Wild Southern Scenes. By author of ^MVild Western Scenes,” 1 75 

Currer Lyle ; or, the Autobiography of an Actress. By Louise Reeder. 1 75 

The Cabin and Parlor. By J. Thornton Randolph. Illustrated, 1 75 

The Little Beauty. A Love Story. By Mrs. Grey, 1 75 

Lizzie Glenn; or, the Trials of a Seamstress. By T. S. Arthur, 1 75 

Lady Maud ; or, the Wonder of Kingswood Chase. By Pierce Egan, 1 75 

Wilfred Montressor; or. High Life in New York. Illustrated, 1 75 

The Old Stone Mansion. By C. J. Peterson, author Kate Ay lesford,” 1 75 
Kate Aylesford. By Chas. J. Peterson, author Old Stone Mansion,”. 1 75 

Lorrimer Littlegood, by author ‘‘Harry Coverdale’s Courtship,” 1 75 

The Earl’s Secret. A Love Story. By Miss Pardoe, 1 75 

The Adopted Heir. By Miss Pardoe, author of “The Earl’s Secret,” 1 75 
Coal, Coal Oil, and all other Minerals in the Earth. By Eli Bowen, 1 75 

Secession, Coercion, and Civil War. By J. B. Jones, 1 75 

Above books are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

The Dead Secret. By Wilkie Collins, author of/‘ The Crossed Path,” 1 50 

The Crossed Path; or Basil. By Wilkie Collins, 1 50 

Indiana. A Love Story. By George Sand, author of “ Consuelo,” 1 50 
Jealousy ; or, Teverino. By George Sand, author of “ Consuelo,” etc. 1 50 
Six Nights with the Washingtonians, Illustrated. By T. S. Arthur, 3 50 
Comstock’s Elocution and Model Speaker. Intended for the use of 
Schools, Colleges, and for private Study, for the Promotion of 
Health, Cure of Stammering, and Defective Articulation. By 
Andrew Comstock and Philip Lawrence. With 236 Illustrations.. 2 00 
The Lawrence Speaker. A Selection of Literary Gems in Poetry and 
Prose, designed for the use of Colleges, Schools, Seminaries, Literary 
Societies. By Philip Lawrence, Professor of Elocution. 600 pages.. 2 00 


(l^* Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 9 


ALEXANDER DUMAS’ WORKS, BOUND IN CLOTH. 

Tke following are cloth editions of Dumas' and Reynolds' works, and they ar4 
each issued in large octavo volumes, hound in cloth, price $1.75 each. 

The Three Guardsmen ; or. The Three Mousquetaires. By A. Dumas, $1 75 
Twenty Years After; or the ‘'Second Series of Three Guardsmen," ... 1 75 
Bragelonne; Son of Athos ; or “ Third Series of Three Guardsmen," 1 75 
The Iron Mask ; or the “ Fourth Series of The Three Guardsmen,".... 1 75 
Louise La Valliere; or the “Fifth Series and End of the Three 

Guardsmen Series," 1 75 

The Memoirs of a Physician. By Alexander Dumas. Illustrated,... 1 75 
Queen’s Necklace ; Second Series of Memoirs of a Physician," 1 75 
Six Years Later; or the “ Third Series of Memoirs of a Physician," 1 75 
Countess of Charny ; ov “ Fourth Series of Memoirs (f a Physician,'* 1 75 
Andree De Taverney ; or “ Fifth Series of Memoirs <f a Physician," 1 75 
The Chevalier; or the “Sixth Series a)ul End (f the Memoirs of a 


Physician Series," I 75 

The Adventures of a Marquis. By Alexander Dumas, 1 75 

The Count of Monte-Cristo. By Alexander Dumas, 1 75 

Edmond Dantes. A Sequel to the “ Count of Monte-Cristo,” 1 75 

The Forty-Five Guardsmen. By Alexander Dumas. Illustrated,... 1 75 
Diana of Meridor, or Lady of Monsoreau. By Alexander Dumas,... 1 75 
The Iron Hand. By Alex. Dumas, author Count of Monte-Cristo,” 1 75 

Camille; or the Fate of a Coquette. (La Dame aux Camelias,) 1 75 

The Conscript. A novel of the Days of Napoleon the First, 1 75 

Love and Liberty. A novel of the French Revolution of 17y2-17y3, 1 75 


GEORGE W. M. REYNOLDS’ WORKS, IN CLOTH. 


The Mysteries of the Court of London. By George W. M. Reynolds, 1 75 
Rose Foster; or the “Second Series of Mysteries of Court of London," 1 75 
Caroline of Brunswick; or the “ Third Series of the Court of London," 1 75 
Venetia Trelawney; or “ End of the Mysteries of the Court of London," 1 75 

Lord Saxondale; or the Court of Queen Victoria. By Reynolds, 175 

Count Christoval. Sequel to “ Lord Saxondale.” By Reynolds, 1 75 

Rosa Lambert; or Memoirs of an Unfortunate Woman. By Reynolds, 1 75 
Mary Price; or the Adventures of a Servant Maid. By Reynolds,... 1 75 
Eustace Quentin. Sequel to Mary Price.” By G. W. M. Reynolds, 1 75 
Joseph Wilmot; or the Memoirs of a Man Servant. By Reynolds,... 1 75 
The Banker’s Daughter. Sequel to “ Joseph Wilmot.” By Reynolds, 1 75 
Kenneth. A Romance of the Highlands. By G. W. M. Reynolds, 1 75 

Rye-House Plot; or the Conspirator’s Daughter. By Reynolds, 1 75 

Necromancer; or the Times of Henry the Eighth. By Re)"nolds, 1 75 

The Mysteries of the Court of the Stuarts. By G. W. M. Reynolds, 1 75 

Wallace; the Hero of Scotland. By G. W. M. Reynolds, 1 75 

The Gipsy Chief. By George W. M. Reynolds, 1 75 

Robert Bruce; the Hero King of Scotland. By G. W. M. Reynolds, 1 75 


Above Books 'will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa* 


10 T. B. PETEESON & BEOTEEES’ PUBLICATIONS. 


WOEKS BY THE VEEY BEST AUTIIOES. 

Tlie follotcing books are each issued in one large octavo volume^ hound iJ* 
cloth, at $2.00 each, or each one is done up in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

Tho Waudering Je\v. By Eugene Sue. Full of Illustration.':, $2 CO 

Mysteries of Paris; and its Sequel, Gerolstein. By Eugene Sue,.... 2 fO 

Martin, the Foundling. By Eugene Sue. Full of Illustrations, 2 00 

Ten Thousand a Year. By Samuel Warren. With Illustrations,.... 2 ('0 

Washington and Ilis General'S. By George Lippard, 2 00 

Tho Quaker City; or, tho Monks of Monk Hall. By George Lippard, 2 00 

Blanche of Brandywine. By George Lippard, 2 00 

Paul Ardenheim ; the Monk of Wissahickon. By George Lippard,. 2 00 
The Mysteries of Florence. By Geo. Lippard, author ‘‘Quaker City,^' 2 00 

The Pictorial Tower of London. By W. Harrison Ainsworth, 2 50 

Above books are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

The following are each issued in one large octavo volume, hound m cloth, price $2.0® 
each, or a cheap edition is issued in paper cover, at 75 caits each. 


Charles O’Malley, the Irish Dragoon. By Charles Lever, Cloth, $2 00 

Harry Lorrequer. With his Confessions. By Charles Lever,. ..Cloth, 2 00 

Jack Hinton, tho Guardsman. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 

Davenport Dunn. A Man of Our Day. By Charles Lever,. ..Cloth, 2 00 

Tom Burke of Ours. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 

The Knight of Gwynne. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 

Arthur O’Leary. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 

Con Cregan. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 

Horace Templeton. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 

Kate O’Donoghue. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 

Valentine Vox, the Ventriloquist. By Harry Cockton, Cloth, 2 00 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at 75 cents each. 


HUMOEOUS ILLUSTEATED WOEKS. 

Each one is full of Illustrations, hy Felix 0. C. Darhy, and hound in Cloth, 

Major Jones’ Courtship and Travels. With 21 Illustrations, $l 75 

Major Jones’ Scenes in Georgia. With 10 Illustrations, 1 .5 

Simon Suggs’ Adventures and Travels. AVith 17 Illustrations, 1 75 

Swamp Doctor’s Adventures in tho South-AA"cst. 14 Illustrations,... 1 50 

Col. Thorpe’s Scenes in Arkansaw. AVith 16 Illustrations, 1 50 

The Big Bear’s Adventures and Travels. AA^ith IS Illustrations, 1 75 

High Life in New York, by Jonathan Slick. AVith Illustrations,.... 1 75 

J-.^lge Jlaliburtoa’s Yankee Stories. Illustrated, 1 75 

Harry Coverdale’s Courtship and Marriage. Illustrated, 1 75 

Pincy AA’'ood’s Tavern; or, Sam Slick in Texas. Illustrated, 1 75 

Sam Slick, the Clockmaker. By Judge Haliburton. Illustrated,... 1 75 
Humors of Falconbridge. By j. F. Kelley. AFith Illustrations,... 1 75 

Modern Chivalr3^ By Judge Breckenridge. Two vols., each 1 75 

Neal's Charcoal Sketches. By Joseph C. Neal. 21 Illustrations,... 2 50 


Abovo Books will bo sent, postage paid, on receipt of Ho tail Prioe, 
by T. B. Petorson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 11 


NEW AND GOOD BOOKS BY BEST AUTHORS. 

Beautiful Snow, and Other Pocm.s. Ntio Illustrated Edition. W. 

Watson. With Illustrations by E. L. Henry. One volume, morocco 
cloth, black and gold, gilt top, side, and back, price $2. CO; or in 
maroon morocco cloth, full gilt edges, full gilt back, full gilt sides,$3 00 
The Outcast, and Other Poems. 13y J. W. Watson. One volume, 
green morocco cloth, gilt top, side and back, price $2.00 ; or in ma- 
roon morocco cloth, full gilt edges, full gilt back, full gilt sides, ... 3 00 
The Young Magdalen; and Other Poems. Bj' Francis S. Smith, 
editor of The New York V/eckly.’' With a portrait of the author. 
Complete in one large volume of 300 pages, bound in green mo- 
rocco cloth, gilt top, side, and back, price $3.00; or in full gilt,.... 4 00 
Hans Breitmann’s Ballads. By Charles G. Leland. Volume One. Con- 
taining the First” Second ” and Third Series” of the ** Breit- 

inann Ballads,” bound in morocco cloth, gilt, beveled boards, 3 00 

Hans Breitmann^s Ballads. By Charles G. Leland. Volume Two. 
Containing the Fourth” and Fifth Series” of the ** Brcitmann 

Ballads,” bound in morocco cloth, gilt, beveled boards, 2 00 

Hans Breitmann’s Ballads. By Charles G. Leland. Being the above 
two volumes complete in one. In one large volume, bound in 
morocco cloth, gilt side, gilt top, and full gilt back, with beveled 

boards. With a full and complete Glossary to the whole work, 4 00 

Meister Karl’s Sketch Book. By Charles G. Leland, (Hans Breit- 
mann.) Complete in one volume, green morocco cloth, gilt side, 
gilt top, gilt back, with beveled boards, price $2.50, or in maroon 

morocco cloth, full gilt edges, full gilt back, full gilt sides, etc., 3 50 

The Ladies’ Guide to True Politeness and Perfect Manners. By 
Miss Leslie. Every lady should have it. Cloth, full gilt back.... 1 73 
The Ladies’ Complete Guide to Needlework and Embroidery. With 

113 illustrations. B>’ Miss Lambert. Cloth, full gilt back, 1 76 

The Ladies’ Work Table Book. With 27 illustrations. Cloth, gilt,. 1 50 
C.yrilla; or the Mysterious Engagement. By author of “ Initials,” 1 DO 

The Miser’s Daughter. By William Harrison Ainsworth, cloth, 1 73 

John Jasper’s Secret. A Sequel to Charles Dickens’ “ Mystery of 

Edwin Drood.” With 18 Illustrations. Bound in cloth, 2 00 

The Last Athenian. From the Swedish of Victor Bydberg. Highly 

recommended by Fredrika Bremer. Paper $1.50, or in cloth, 2 00 

$L.cross the Atlantic. Letters from France, Switzerland, Germany, 

Italy, and England. By C. II. Haeseler, M.D. Bound in cloth,... 2 00 
The Story of Elizabeth. By Miss Thackera}^, paper, 50 cents, or cloth, I 00 
Dow’s Short Patent Sermons. By Dow, Jr. In 4 vols., cloth, each.... 1 50 
Wild Oats Sown Abroad. A Spicy Book. By T. B. Witmer, cloth,... 1 50 
Aunt Patty’s Scrap Bag. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz. Illustrated, 1 50 
Historical Sketches of Plymouth, Luzerne Co., Penna. By Hendrick 
B. Wright, of Wilkesburre. With Twenty-five Photographs, 4 00 


Above Books will bo sent, postage paid, on receipt of Eetail Pri®©, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


12 T. B. PETEESO:^ & BEOTHEES’ PUBLICATIONS, 


NEW AND GOOD BOONS BY BEST AUTHOES. 

Consuclo. By Gcorgo Sand. One volume, 12ino., bound in cloth,.. .$1 50 


The Countess of lludolstadt. Sequel to Consuelo.” 12mo., cloth,.. 1 50 

Bose Foster. By George W. M. Reynolds, Esq., cloth, 1 75 

Lord Montagu’s Page. By G. P. R. James, author of “Cavalier,”... 1 75 
Coriniic; or, Italy. A Love Story. By Madame do Stael, cloth,.... 1 00 

Treason at llomc. A Novel. By Mrs. Greenough, cloth 1 75 

Letters from Europe. By Colonel John W. Forney. Bound in cloth, 1 75 

Frank Fairlegh. By author of “ Lewis Arundel,” cloth, 1 75 

Lewis Arundel. By author of “Frank Fairlegh,” cloth, 1 75 

Harry Racket Scapegrace. By the author of “ Frank Fairlegh,” cloth, 1 75 

Tom Racquet. By author of “ Frank Fairlegh,” cloth, 1 75 

La Gaviota; the Sea-Gull. By Fernan Caballero, cloth, 1 50 

Monsieur Antoine. By George Sand. Illustrated. One vol., cloth, 1 00 
Aurora Floyd. By Miss Braddon. One vol., paper 75 cents, cloth,... 1 00 

The Life of Charles Dickens. By R. Shelton Mackenzie, cloth, 2 00 

The Laws and Practice of the (Lunc of Euchre, as adopted by the 

Euchre Club of Washington, D. C. Bound in cloth, 1 00 

Pocticnl Works of Sir Walter Scott. One 8vo. volume, line binding, 5 Oi^ 
Life of Sir Walter Scott. By John G. Lockhart. "With Portrait, 2 5(i 


The Shakspeare Novels. Complete in one large octavo volume, cloth, 4 00 
Miss Pardoe’s Choice Novels. In one large octavo volume, cloth,... 4 00 
Life, Speeches and Martyrdom of Abraham Lincoln. Illustrated,... I 75 
Rome and the Papacy. A History of the Mon, Manners and Tempo- 


ral Government of Rome in the Nineteenth Century, cloth i 75 

The French, German, Spanish, Latin and Italian Languages Without 
a Master. Whereby any one of these Languages can be learned 

without a Teacher. By A. II. Monteith. One volume, cloth 2 00 

Liebig’s Complete Works on Chemistry. By Baron Justus Liebig... 2 00 
Life and Adventures of Don Quixote and his Squire Saneho Panza, 1 75 

Tan-go-ru-a. An Historical Drama, in Prose. By Mr. Aloorhead, 1 00 

The Impeachment Trial of President Andrew Johnson. Cloth, 1 50 


Trial of the Assassins for the Murder of Abra,ham Lincoln. Cloth,... 1 50 
Lives of Jack Sheppard and Guy Fawkes. Illustrated. One vol., cloth, 1 75 
Christy and White’s Complete Ethiopian Melodies, bound in cloth,... 1 UO 
Dr. Hollick’.s great work on the Anatomy and Physiology of the 
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Comstock’s Colored Chart. Being a perfect Alphabet of the Eng- 
lish Language, Graphic and Typic, with exercises in Pitch, Force 
and Gesture, and Sixty-Eight colored figures, representing the va- 
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On a large Roller. Every School .should have a copy of it, 5 00 

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The following are cloth editions of Mrs. Henry Wood’s best hooks, and they 
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The Master of Greylands. By Mrs. Henry Wood, 1 75 

Bene Hollow. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “ Wilhin the Maze,” 1 75 
Bessy llane. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of The Channings,”.... 1 75 
George Canterbury’s Will. By Mrs. Wood, author Oswald Cray,” 1 75 
The Channings. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of Bene Hollow,”... 1 75 

Roland Yorke. A Sequel to The Channings.” By Mrs. Wood, 1 75 

Shadow of Ashlydyatt. By Mrs. A7ood, author of Bessy Bane,”.... 1 75 
Lord Oakburn’s Baughters; or The Earl’s Heirs. By Mrs. AVood,... 1 75 
A^erner’s Pride. By Mrs. Henry AA^ood, author of The Channings,” 1 75 
The Castle’s Heir; or Lady Adelaide’s Oath. By Mrs. Henry AA’ood, 1 75 
Oswald Cray. By Mrs. Henry AVood, author of ‘‘ Roland Yorke,”..,. 1 75 

Squire Trevlyn’s Heir; or Trevlyn Hold. By Mrs. Henry Wood, 1 75 

The Red Court Farm. By Mrs. Wood, author of “ Verner’s Pride,” 1 75 
Elster’s Foll}^ By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of Castle’s Heir,”... 1 75 
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NEW BOOKS BY THE VEEY BEST AUTHOES. 

The following books are all printed on tinted paper, and are each issued in 
uniform style, in square \2mo. form. Price Fifty Cents each in Paper 
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the original icork from which the play of ^Fanchon, the Cricket” as pre~ 
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Carmen. By Prosper Merimce. The original icork, from which the popu* 
lar Opera of ‘Farmen,” as presented on the stage, was dramatized. 
Madeleine. A Charming Love Story. Jules Sandcau’s Prize Novel. 
Madame Pompadour’s Garter. A Romance of the Reign of Louis XAL 
A AVoman’s Mistake; or, Jacques de Tr^vannes. A Charming Love Story. 
The Story of Elizabeth. By Miss Thackeray, daughter of W. M. Thackeray, 
The Alatchmaker. By Beatrice Reynolds. A Charming Love Story. 
Two AVays to Matrimony; or. Is it Love? or, False Pride. 

That Girl of Mine. By the author of That Lover of Mine.”. 

Bessie’s Six Lovers. A Charming Love Stor}*. By Henry Peterson. 

That Lover of Mine. By the author of “ That Girl of Mine.” 

HARRY COCKTOH’S BEST WORKS. 


ALnlentine A^ox, Ventriloquist,.. 

75 

I The Fatal Marriages, 

.... 75 

Valentine Vox, cloth, 

2 00 j 

The Steward, 

.... 75 

Sylvester Sound, 

75 

Per(*v Effingham, 

75 

The Love Match, 

75 ‘ 

The Prince, 



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WORKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTHORS. 

The Conscript; or, the Days of Napoleon 1st. By Alex. Dutuas,....$l 75 


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Married at Last. A Love Story. By Annie Thoraa«, 1 75 

Shoulder Straps. By Henry Morford, author of Days of Shoddy/^ 1 75 
Days of Shoddy. By Henry Morford, author of ‘^Shoulder Straps,” 1 75 
The Coward. By Henry Morford, author of Shoulder Straps,” 1 75 


Above books are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

Harry Lorrequer. With His Confessions, By Charles Lever. Four 
different editions : one at 75 cents in paper cover, and three bound in 
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Library Edition, at $2.00. 

Charles O’Malley, the Irish Dragoon. Four different editions: one at 75 
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WORKS IN SETS BY THE BEST AUTHORS. 

Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth’s Popular Novels. 43 vols. in all, 75 25 


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Alexander Dumas’ Works. Twenty-one volumes in all, 36 75 

George W. M. Beynolds’ Works. Eighteen volumes in all, 31 50 

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Cook Books. The best in the world. Eleven volumes in all, 19 25 

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Green’s Works on Gambling. Four volumes in all, 7 00 

American Humorous Works. Illustrated. Twelve volumes iu all, 21 00 

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George Sand’s Works. Consuelo, etc. Five volumes in all, 7 50 

George Lippard’s Works. Five volumes in all, 10 01) 

Dow’s Short Patent Sermons. Four volumes in all, 6 00 


The Waverley Novels. National Edition. Five large 8vo. vols., cloth, 1 5 00 
Ch.arles Dickens’ Works. People’s \2mo. Edition. 22 vols., cloth, 34 00 
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CHARLES DICKENS’ WORKS. 

GREAT REDUCTION IN THEIR PRICES. “©31 


CHEAP PAPER COVER EDITION OF DICKENS’ WORKS. 


Each book being complete 


Pickwick Papers, 50 

Nicholas Nickleby, 50 

Doiubey and Son, 50 

Our Mutual Friend, 50 

David Copperfield, 50 

Martin Chuzzlewit, 50 

Old Curiosity Shop, 50 

Oliver Twist, 50 

American Notes, 25 

Hard Times, 25 

A Tale of Two Cities, 25 

Somebody’s Luji^gage, 25 

Mrs. Lirriper’s Lodgings, 25 

Mrs. Lirriper’s Legacy, 25 

Mugby Junction, 25 

Dr. Marigold’s Prescriptions,... 25 

Mystery of Edwin Drood, 25 

Message from the Sea, 25 

Hunted Down; and Other Reprintec 


in one large octavo volume. 

Bleak House, 

Little Dorrit, 

Christmas Stories, 

Barnaby Rudge, 

Sketches by “Boz,” 

Great Expectations, 

Joseph Grimaldi, 

The Pic-Nic Papers, 

The Haunted House, 

Uncommercial Traveller, 

A House to Let, 

Perils of English Prisoners, 

Wreck of the Golden Mary, 

Torn Tiddler’s Ground, 

Dickens’ New Stories, 

Lazy Tour of Idle Apprentices,. 

The Holly-Tree Inn, 

No Thoroughfare, 

Pieces, 


50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

50 


PEOPLE’S DUODECIMO EDITION. ILLUSTRATED. 

Reduced in price from $2.50 to $1.50 a volume. 

This edition is jjrintcd on fine paper, from large, clear type, leaded, that 
all can read, containing Two Hundred Illustrations on tinted pa p>er. 


Our Mutual Friend, Cloth, $1.50 

Pickwick Papers, Cloth, 1.50 

Nicholas Nickleby, Cloth, 1.50 

Great Expectations, Cloth, 1.50 

David Copperfield, Cloth, 1.50 

Oliver Twist, Cloth, 1.50 

Bleak House, Cloth, 1.50 

A Tale of Two Cities,. ..Cloth, 1.50 


Little Dorrit, Cloth, $1.50 

Dombey and Son, Cloth, 1.50 

Christmas Stories, Cloth, 

Sketehes by “ Boz,” Cloth, 

Barnaby Rudge, Cloth, 

Martin Chuzzlewit, Cloth, 

Old Curiosity Shop, Cloth, 

Dickens’ New Stories,.. Cloth, 


Mystery of Edwin Drood; and Master Humphrey’s Clock, Cloth, 

American Notes; and the Uncommercial Traveller, Cloth, 

Hunted Down ; and other Reprinted Pieces, Cloth, 

The Holly-Tree Inn; and other Stories, Cloth, 

The Life and Writings of Charles Diekens, Cloth, 

John Jasper’s Secret. Sequel to Mystery of Edwin Drood,... Cloth, 

Price of a set, in Black cloth, in twenty-two volumes, $34.00 

Full sheep. Library style, 45.00 

Half calf, sprinkled edges, 56.00 

Half calf, marbled edges, 61.00 

Half calf, antique, or half calf, full gilt backs, etc. 66.00 


1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

2.00 

2.00 


u 

it 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Pricey 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Fa. (15) 


18 T. B. PETEESON & BEOTHEES’ PUBLICATIONS, 


HUMOEOUS AMEEICAN WOEKS. 

With Illuminated Covers^ and beautifully Illustrated hy Felix 0. C. Barley, 

Major Jones’s Courtship. With Illustrations by Darley, 75 

Major Jones’s Sketches of Travels. Full of Illustrations 75 

The Adventures of Captain Simon Suggs. Illustrated, 75 

Major Jones’s Chronicles of Pinevillc. Illustrated, 75 

Polly Peablossom’s AVedding. AVith Illustrations, 75 

AiVidow Rugby’s Husband. Full of Illustrations, 75 

The Big Bear of Arkansas. Illustrated by Barley, 75 

AA^estern Scenes ; or. Life on the Prairie. Illustrated, 75 

Streaks of Squatter Lifo and Far AV'est Scenes. Illustrated,." 75 

Pickings from tho New Orleans Picayune. Illustrated, 75 

Stray Subjects Arrested and Bound Over. Illustrated, 75 

The Louisiana Swamp Doctor. Full of Illustrations, 75 

Charcoal Sketches. By Joseph C. Neal. Illustrated, 75 

Peter Faber’s Misfortunes. By Joseph C. Neal. Illustrated, 75 

Peter Ploddy and other Oddities. By Joseph C. Neal, 75 

Yankee' Among tho Mermaids. By William E. Burton 75 

The Drama in Pokerville. By J. M. Field. Illustrated, 75 

New Orleans Sketch Book. AVith Illustrations by Barley, 75 

The Beer Stalkers. By Frank Forrester. Illustrated, 75 

The Quorndon Hounds. By Frank Forrester. Illustrated, 75 

My Shooting Box. By Frank Forrester. Illustrated, 75 

The AVarwick AYoodlands. By Frank Forrester. Illustrated, 75 

Adventures of Captain Farrago. By H. H. Brackenridge, 75 

Adv'entures of Major O’Regan. By H. H. Brackenridge, 75 

Sol Smith’s Theatrical Apprenticeship. Illustrated, 75 

Sol Smith’s Theatrical Journey-AVork. Illustrated, 75 

Quarter Race in Kentucky. AVith Illustrations by Barley, 75 

Tho Mysteries of the Backwoods. By T. B. Thorpe, 75 

Percival Mayberry’s Adventures. By J. H. Ingraham, 75 

Sam Slick’s Yankee Yarns and Yankee Letters, 75 

Adventures of Fudge Fumble j or, Love Scrapes of his Life, 75 

Aunt Patty’s Scrap Bag. By Mrs. Caroline Leo Hentz, 75 

Following the Brum. By Mrs. Gen. Viele, 50 

The American Joe Miller. With. 100 Engravings, 60 

SAMUEL WAEEEN’S BEST BOOKS. 

Ten Thousand a Year, paper,$l 50 I The Diary of a Medical Stu- 
Ten Thousand a Year, cloth,.. 2 00 I dent, 74 

WILLIAM H. MAXWELL’S WOEKS. 

Wild Sports of the AVest, 75 I Brian O’Lynn, 75 

Stories of Waterloo, 75 I Lifo of Grace O’Malley, 60 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. £. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 19 


MISS PARDOE’S POPULAR WORKS. 


The Eival Beauties, 75 

Romance of the Harem, 75 


Confessions of a Pretty Woman, 75 

The Wife’s Trials, 75 

The Jealous Wife, 75 

Each of the above five books are also bound in cloth, at $1.00 each. 

The Adopted Heir. One volume, paper, $1.50; or in cloth, $1 75 

The Earl’s Secret. One volume, paper, $1.50 ; or in cloth, 1 75 


T. S. ARTHUR’S 

The Lost Bride, 50 

The Two Brides, 50 

Love in a Cottage, 50 

Love in High Life, 50 

Year after Marriage, 50 

The Lady at Home, 50 

Cecelia Howard, 50 

Orphan Children,.., 5!' 

Debtor’s Daughter, 50 

Insubordination; or, the Shoemaker’s Daughters, 
The Latimer Family; or, The Bottle and the Pledge. 


HOUSEHOLD NOVELS. 

The Divorced Wife, 50 

Mary More ton, 50 

Pride and Prudence, 50 

Agnes; or, the Possessed, 50 

Lucy Sandfordy 60 

The Banker’s Wife, 50’ 

The Two Merchants, 50 

Trial and Triumph, 50 

The Iron Rule, 60 

50 

Illustrated,.... 


50 


Six Nights with the Washingtonians ; and other Temperance Tales. 

By T. S. Arthur. With original Illustrations, by George Cruik- 
shank. One large octavo volume, bound in beveled boards, $3.50 ; 
red roan, full gilt back, $4.50; or full Turkey morocco, full gilt,... 6 00 
Lizzy Glenn; or, the Trials of a Seamstress. Cloth $1.75; or paper, 1 50 

MRS. GREY’S CELEBRATED NOVELS. 

Cousin Harry, $1 50 | The Little Beauty, $1 50 

The above are each in paper cover, or in cloth, price $1.75 each. 


A Marriage in High Life, 50 

Gipsy’s Daughter, 50 

Old Dower House, 50 

Belle of the Family, 50 

Duke and Cousin, 50 

The Little Wife, 50 

Lena Cameron, 50 

Sybil Lennard, 50 

Manoeuvring Mother 50 


The Baronet’s Daughters, 50 

Young Prima Donna, 50 

llyacinthe, 25 

Alice Seymour, 25 

Mary Seaham. 75 

Passion and Principle, 75 

The Flirt, 75 

Good Society, 75 

Lion-Hearted, 75 


G. P. R. JAMES’S BEST BOOKS. 

Lord Montague’s Page. Paper cover, $1.50, or in cloth, $1 75 

The Cavalier. By the author of Lord Montague’s Page,” cloth,.... 1 00 

The Man in Black, 75 1 Arrali Neil, 75 

Mary of Burgundy, 75 1 Eva St. Clair, 50 


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CAPTAIN MAEEYATT’S WOEKS. 


Jacob Faithful, 

50 

Newton Forster, 

Japhet in Search of a Father,.. 

50 

King’s Own, 

Phantom Ship, 

60 

Pirate and Three Cutters, 

Mid.'^hipmnn F.-isy, 

60 

Peter Simple, 

Pacha of Many Tales, 

60 

Percival Keene, 

Frank Mildmay, Naval OSicer, 

50 

Poor Jack, 

Snarleyow, 

60 

Sea King, 


EEVOLUTIONAEY TALES. 


The Brigand, 

Ralph Riinniou, 

Seven Brothers of Wyoming,.. 

The Rebel Bride, 

The Flying Artillerist, 

Wau-nan-gee, 


50 

60 

60 

60 

60 

60 


Old Put; or. Days of 1776,. 

Legends of Mexico, 

Grace Dudley, 

The Guerilla Chief, 

The Quaker Soldier, paper,, 
do. do. cloth,. 


5« 

60 

60 

60 

60 

60 

60 


50 

60 

60 

75 

1 60 
1 76 


J. P. SMITH’S WOEKS. 


The Usurer's Victim; or, I Adelaide Waldcgrave; or, the 
Thomas Balscombe, 76 1 Trials of a Governess, 


76 


WILLIAM HAEEISON AIHSWOETH’S V/OEES. 


Life of Jack Sheppard, 60 

Life of Guy Fawkes, 76 

Court of the Stuarts, 76 

Windsor Castle, 76 

The Star Chamber, 76 

Old St. Paul's, 76 

Court of Queen Anne, 60 


Life of Dick Turpin, 50 

Life of Davy Crockett, 60 

Life of Grace O’Malley, 60 

Desperadoes of the New W orld, 60 
Life of Henry Thomas, 26 


Life of Ninon De L’Enclos,.. 
Life of Arthur Spring. 


The Tower of London, with 93 illustrations, paper cover, 1.50, cloth, 2 50 

The Miser’s Daughter, paper cover, 1.00, or in cloth, 1 76 

Lives of Jack Sheppard and Guy Fawkes, in one volume, cloth, 1 76 


GUSTAVE AIMAED’S WOEKS. 


The Prairie Flower, 
The Indian Scout,.. 
The Trail Hunter,.. 
The Indian Chief,.. 

The Rod Track, 

The AVhite Scalper,. 
The Freebooters,.... 


60 

60 

75 

75 

75 

60 

50 


Tr.apper's Daughter,..., 

The Tiger Slayer, 

The Gold Seekers, 

The Rebel Chief, 

The Border Rifles, 

Pirates of the Prairies,, 


75 

75 

76 

75 

76 
76 


SIE E. L. BULWEE’S NOVELS. 

The Roue, 60 I The Courtier, 

The Oxonians, 50 1 Falkland, 


25 

25 


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GEORGE SAND’S GREATEST WORKS. 

Consuelo, 12mo., cloth, $1 50 I Jealousy, 12mo., cloth, $1 50 

Countess of Rudolstadt, 1 50 1 Indiana, 12mo., cloth, 1 50 

Above are published in 12tno., cloth, gilt side and back. 

Fanchon, the Cricket, paper cover, 50 cents, or fine edition, in cloth, 1 50 
First and True Love. AVith 11 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents ; cloth, 1 00 

Consuelo. Paper cover, 75 i The Corsair 60 

Simon, A Love Story, 50 iTlie Last Aldini, 60 

The Countess of Rudolstadt. The Sequel to Consuelo. Paper cover, 75 


HENRY MORFORD’S AMERICAN NOVELS. 

Shoulder-Straps, $1 50 I The Days of Shoddy. A Ilis- 

The Coward, 1 50 I tory of the late AVar, $1 50 

Above are each in paper cover, or each one is in cloth, price $1.75 each, 

THE SHAKSPEARE NOVELS. 

Shakspenre and his Friends, ...$1 00 I The Secret Passion, $1 00 

The Youth of Shakspeare, 1 00 1 

Above three Books are also in one volume, cloth. Price Four Dollars. 


LIVES OF NOTED HIGHWAYMEN, ETC, 


Life of John A. Murrel, 

Life of Joseph T. Hare, 

Life of Col. Monroe Edwards, . 

Life of Jack Sheppard,.... 

Life of Jack Rann...... 

Life of Dick Turpin, 

Life of Helen Jewett, 

Desperadoes of the New World, 

Mysteries of New Orleans, 

The Robber’s AVife, 

Obi; or. Three Fingered Jack, 

Kit Clayton, 

Life of Tom AALaters, 

Nat Blake, 

Bill Horton, 

Galloping Gus, 

Life & Trial of Antoine Probst, 

Ned Hastings, 

Eveleen AVilson, 

Diary of a Pawnbroker, 

Silver and Pewter, 

Sweeney Todd, 

Life of Grace O’Malley, 5(1 


Life of Davy Crockett, 60 

Life of Sybil Grey, 60 

Life of Jonathan AVild, 25 

Life of Henry Thomas, 25 

Life of Arthur Spring 25 

Life of Jack Ketch, 25 

Life of Ninon De L’Enclo.«, 25 

Lives of the Felons, 25 

Life of Mrs.AATiipple, 25 

Life of Biddy AA’oodhull, 25 

Life of Mother Brownrigg, 25 

Dick Parker, the Pirate, 25 

Life of Mary Bateman, 25 

Life of Captain Blood, 25 

Capt. Blood and the Beagles,.. 25 
Sixteen-Stringed Jack’s Fight 

for Life, 25 

Highwayman’s Avenger, 25 

Life of liaoul De Surville, 25 

Life of Rody the Rover, 25 

Life of Galloping Dick, 25 

Life of Guy Fawkes, 75 


Life and Adventures ofVidocq, 1 50 


50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


22 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


CHARLES J. PETERSON’S WORKS, 

The Old Stone Mansion^ $1 50 I Kate Aylesford, $1 6d 

The above are each in paper cover, or in cloth, price $1.75 each 


Cruising in the Last War 


75 

j Grace Dudley ; or, Arnold at 


Villi fiv Farm 


25 

1 Sar.atno^a 

50 

GEORGE LIPPARD’S GREAT BOOKS. 


The Quaker City, $1 

50 

The Empire City, 

75 

Paul Ardenheim, 

1 

50 

Memoirs of a Preacher, 

75 

Blanche of Brandywine, 

1 

50 

The Nazarene, 

75 

Washington .and his Generals; 



Washington and his Alen, 

75 

or, Legends of the American 



Legends of Mexico, 

50 

Revolution, 

1 

50 

The Entranced, 

25 

Mysteries of Florence, 

1 

00 

The Robbers, 

25 

Above in cloth at $2.00 each 



1 The Bank Director’s Sun....... 

25 

EXCITING SEA TALES. 


Adventures of Ben Brace, 


75 

Gallant Tom, 

50 

Jack Adams, the Mutineer,.... 


75 

Harry Helm, 

50 

Jack Ariel’s Adventures 


75 

Harry Tempest, 

51) 

Petrel ; or, Life on the Ocean,. 


7.> 

Rebel and Rover, 

50 

Life of Paul Periwinkle, 


75 

Man - 0 f- W a r's -M an 

50 

Life of Tom Bowling, 


70 

Dark Shades of City Life, 

25 

Percy EflBngham, 


75 

The Rats of the Seine, 

25 

Cruising in the Last War, 


75 

Charles Ransford, 

25 

Red King, 


50 

The Iron Cross, 

25 

The Corsair 


f.O 

The River Pirates, 

25 

The Doomed Ship, 


50 

The Pirate’s Son, 

25 

The Three Pirates, 


5<i 

Jacob Faithful, 

50 

The Flying Dutchman, 


50 

Phantom Ship, 

50 

The Flying Yankee, 


50 

Midshipman Easy, 

50 

The Yankee Middy, 


50 

Pacha of Many Tales, 

50 

The Gold Seekers, 


50 

Naval Officer, 

50 

The King's Crui.'^er.s, 


50 

Snarleyow 

50 

Life of Alexander T.ardy, 


50 

Newton Forster, 

50 

Red Wing, 


50 

King’s Own, 

50 

Yankee Jack, 


50 

.Japhet, 

60 

Yankees in Janan, 


50 

Pirate and Three Cutters, 

50 

Morgan, the Buccaneer, 


50 

Peter Simple, 

50 

.Jack .Junk, 


50 

Percival Keene, 

50 

Davis, the Pirate, 


50 

Poor Jack, 

50 

Valdez, the Pirate, 


50 

Sea King, 

50 


1^* Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on Receipt of Retail Pvicei 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 23 


WAVERLEY NOVELS. BY SIR WALTER SCOTT. 


Ivanhoe, 

... 25 

Rob Roy, 

... 25 

Guy Mannering, 

... 25 

The Antiquary, 

... 25 

Old Mortality, 

25 

Heart of Mid Lothian, 


Bride of Lammermoor, 

... 25 

Waverley, 

... 25 

St. Ronan’s Well, 

... 25 

Kenilworth, 

... 25 

The Pirate, 

... 25 

The Monastery, 

... 25 

The Abbot, 

... 25 

The Fortunes of Nigel, 

... 25 


Above edition is the cheapest in th 
volumes, price 25 cents each, or Tive 

Moredun. A Tale of 1210, 50 

Tales of a Grandfather, 25 


The Betrothed, 25 

Poveril of the Peak, 25 

Quentin Durward, 25 

lied Gauntlet, 25 

The Talisman, 25 

Woodstock, 25 

Highland Widow, etc., 25 

The Fair Maid of Perth, 25 

Anne of Geierstein, 25 

Count Robert of Paris, 25 

The Black Dwarf and Legend 

of Montrose, 25 

Castle Dangerous, and Sur- 

geon^s Daughter, 25 

world, and is complete in twenty-six 
Dollars for the complete set. 

ScotPs Poetical Works, 5 00 

Life of Scott, cloth, 2 50 


“NEW NATIONAL EDITION” OF WAVERLEY NOVELS. 

This edition of the Waverley Novels is contained in jive large octavo voU 
times, with a portrait of Sir Walter Scott, making/our very large 

double columned 2 mges, in good type, and handsomely printed on the finest 
of white paper, and bound in the strongest and most substantial manner. 

Price of a set, in Black cloth, in five volumes, $15 00 

Full sheep. Library style, 17 50 

“ “ Half calf, antique, or Half calf, gilt, 25 00 


\ 


WOEKS AT 25 CENTS. BY BEST AETHOES. 


Life of Ninon De L’Enclos,.... 25 

Aunt Margaret’s Trouble, 25 

The Woman in Grey, 25 

The Deformed, 25 

The Two Prima Donnas, 25 

The Mysterious Marriage, 25 

Jack Downing’s Letters, 25 

The Mysteries of a Convent,... 25 

Rose Warrington, 25 

The Iron Cross, 25 

Charles Ransford, 25 

The Mysteries of Bedlam, 25 


The Nobleman’s Daughter,... 25 

Ghost Stories. Illustrated,.... 25 

Ladies’ Science of Etiquette,... 25 

The Abbey of Innisrnoyle, 25 

Gliddon’s Ancient Egypt 25 

Philip in Search of a Wife, 25 

Raoul De Surville. By Sue,... 25 

Rifle Shots, 25 

Rody the Rover, 25 

The Sower’s Reward, 25 

The Courtier. By Bulwer, 25 

G. F. Train and the Fenians, .. 25 


Madison’s Exposition of Odd Fellowship. Illustrated, 25 

The Iniquities and Barbarities Practiced at Rome in the 19th Century, 25 
Comic Life of Billy Yidkins, with 32 Illustrations, 25 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


PETERSONS’ ‘STERLING SERIES' 

OF NEW AND GOOD BOOKS. 

Are tlie Cheapest Novels in the World. 

Price 75 Cents Each in Paper, or $1.00 Each in Cloth. 


“ PETERSONS’ STERLING SERIES OF NEW AND GOOD 
ROOKS” are all issued unabridged and entire, in nnifi.rtn style, and are printed from 
1 Tge type, in octavo form, price i^eventy-five cents each in paper cover, with the edges 
cut open all around ; or One Dollar each, bound in nioD cco cloth, black and gold, and 
is the most popular series of Books ever printed. The following works have already 
bt'en issued in this series, and a new one will follow every two weeks in the same style, 
same size, and at the same low price. 

SALATHIEL; THE WANDERING JEV/. By Rev. George Croly. 
AURORA FLOYD. A Love Story. By Miss Braddon. 

MARRYING FOR MONEY. A Love Story in Rea! Life. 
THACKERAY’S IRISH SKETCH BOOK. With 38 Illustrations. 
EDINA. A Love Story. By Mrs. Henry Wood, 

CORINNE; OR, ITALY. By Madame De Stael. 

CYRILLA. A Love Story. By author of “ The Initials.” 
FLIRTATIONS IN AMERICA; or, HIGH LIFE IN NEW YORK. 
THE COQUETTE. A Tale of Love and Pride. 

CHARLES O’MALLEY, The Irish Dragoon. By Charles Lever. 
THE FLIRT. By author of “ The Gambler’s Wife.’^ 

THE DEAD SECRET. By Wilkie Collins. 

THE WIFE’S TRIALS. By Miss Pardoe. 

THE MAN WITH FIVE WIVES. By Alexander Dumas. 

HARRY LORREQUER. By Charles Lever. 

PICKWICK ABROAD. Illustrated. By G. W. M. Reynolds. 
FIRST AND TRUE LOVE. By George Sand. 

THE MYSTERY. A Love Story. By Mrs. Henry Wood. 

THE STEWARD. By author of “Valentine Vox.” 

BASIL; or, THE GROSSED PATH. By Wilkie Collins. 
POPPING THE QUESTION. By author of “The Jilt.” 

THE JEALOUS WIFE. By Miss Julia Pardoe. 

SYLVESTER SOUND. By author of “Valentino Vox.” 

THE CONFESSIONS OF A PRETTY WOMAN. 

THE RIVAL BEAUTIES. By Miss Pardoe. 

V/HITEFRIARS ; Or, The Days of Charies the Second. 
WEBSTER AND HAYNE’S SPEECHES. Unabridged. 

7^:^ Above Books are for sale by all Booksellers, or copies will be sent to 
any one, to any ■place, at once, post-paid, on remitting pr ice to the Publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 

SO 306 Cliestnut St., Pliiladelpliia, Pa. 


BEAUTIFUL SNOW. 


AN ENTIRE NEW ILLUSTRATED EDITION. 

Describing the life of Woman in Five Pictures, from Origin.-il 
Drawings, by Edward L. Henry. 



BEATJTIFUI. SNOW, ANT) OTHER POEMS. Bt J. W. Watson, mthor of “Tho 

Outcast.” An Entire New Illnstrafed Edition, describing the life of Woman in Five 
Pictures, from omginal designs dran'n by Edward L. ITcnry. One volume, octavo, 
printed on tinted plate paper, and bound in green morocco cloth, with gilt top, gilt 
sides, and beveled boards, price Two Dollars; or bound in maroon morocco cloth, with 
full gilt sides, full gilt edges, full gilt back, and beveled boards, price Three Dollars. 


Above Booh is for sale by all Booksellers, or copies will be sent to any 
one, to any place, at once, post-paid, on remitting price to the publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 

42 306 Chestnut St., Philadelphia, Pa. 


FATHER Tom and the Pope 

OR, 

A maHT AT THE VATICAN. 


With Illustrative Engravings of the scenes that took place 
there, between the Pope and the Priest, Father Tom. 


^ead xvhat S. J’. Prime, Esq., the Editor of the New York Chmstian Observer, says 
of **Eather Tom and the Popef* in that pape^', editorially, 

« FATHER TOM AND THE POPE.— There is a time to laugh. And we 
had it when we read this book, with the taking title of ‘Father Tom and the 
Pope.* It is a broad satire on the faith and practice of Mother Rome ; too broad 
perhaps for this country, where the Irish brogue, Irish humor, and Irish technical 
terms are not as readily caught as they are in the green isle for which the book was 
written. 

“ Father Tom goes to Rome ; he is a Romish Priest from Ireland, and in Rome, 
his HolineSvS invites the celebrated champion of the Church to take ‘ pot look wid 
him.* At the table the Pope offers him various kinds of wine, but Father Tom, 
more accustomed to something stronger and warmer, complains of the drink, and 
greatly to the disgust of the Pope produces a bottle of the ‘rale stuff’ from his coat 
pocket. His Holiness rebukes him for bringing his own liquor when coming to 
dine with the prince of princes, but catching a whiff of the whiskey across the 
table, asks for the bottle, brings it to his blessed nose, and exclaims, ‘Holy Virgin I 
but it has the divine smell I* 

“After this the Pope and Father Tom have a good time generally ; the Priest 
produces another bottle from another pocket ; calls for the housekeeper to bring the 
‘matarials* to brew a punch ; she comes ; a comely damsel ; and then occurs a scene 
that introduces as keen a satire on one of the dogmas of Rome as was ever made, 
for the particulars of which we advise all persons to buy and read the book.** 

Price 50 Cents in paper cover, or $1.00 in Morocco cloth, black and gold. 

^^Father Tom and the Pope,^^ will be found for sale by all Booksellers, and on 
all Bail-Road Trains, or copies of it mil be sent to any one, to any place, at once, post- 
paid, on remitting the price of the edition wished, in a letter, to the publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 

No. 806 Chestnut Sti*eet, Philadelphia, Pa. 


Henry Greville’s iN'ew Works. 


Pkilomene’s Marriag^es. From the French of “Zes Mariagcs dt PJixlomcnty 
By Henry Gr^ville, author of Dosia,” “ Saveli’s Expiation,” etc. 

The American edition of “ Philomkne’s MARniAOES,” contains a Preface written by 
Henry Greville, addressed to her American Readers, which is not in the French edition. 
Translated in Paris, from Henry Greville'' s manuscript^ by Miss Helen Stanley. 

Pretty liittle €oniite$iS Zina. By Henry Greville, axithor of “Dosia,” 
“ Saveli’s Expiation,” “A Friend,” etc. Translated by Mary Heal Sherwood. 

“ Pretty Little Countess Zina ” is a careful studj’. Zina, the youthful Countess, 
bears a certain resemblance to Dosia — that bewitching creature — in her dainty wilfulness, 
while the ward and cousin, Vassalissa, is an entire new creation. 

Dosia. A Russian Story. Complete and Unabridged. By Henry Gr€ville, author 
of “Saveli’s Expiation,” “Marrying Olf a Daughter,” “ Sonia,” etc. 

“Dosia” has been crowned by the French Academy as the Prize Novel of the year. 
It is a charming story of Russian society, and is crisp, fresh and pure; while its fascina- 
tion is powerful and legitimate. It is written Avith a rare grace of style, is brilliant, 
pleasing and attractive. “ Dosia ” is an exquisite creation, and is pure and fresh as a rose, 

Marrying* Off a Dangliter. By Henry GreviUe, author of “Dosia,” “Saveli’s 
Expiation,” “ Gabrielle,” “ A Friend,” etc. Translated by Mary Heal Sherwood. 

“Marryino Off A Daughter” is gay, sparkling, and pervaded by a delicious tone of 
quiet humor, while the individuality of the characters is very marked. The mother 
travels all over Europe to find a desirable parti for her pretty daughter, who has a toler- 
able dowry, but alas! husband after husband slips through the meshes of the net woven 
by the mother. Suffice it to say, that the book will be read and enjoyed by thousands. 

Above books are 75 Cents eack in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth, black and gold, 

A Friend ; or, Ij’Ami. A Story of Every-Day Life. By Henry GrSvilJe, author 
of “Sonia,” and “ Saveli’s Expiation.” Translated in J*aris by Miss Helen Stanley. 

The story of “A Friend,” is one of every-day life in Paris at the present day, and 
shows Henry Greville's great talent and peculiar skill in the analysis of character. She 
draws her characters remarkably well, and this tender and touching picture of French 
home-life will touch many hearts, as it shows liow the love of a true and good Avoman 
will meet with its reward and triumph at the last, in the value of true, enduring love. 

Sonia. A Russian Story. By Henry Gi'cviUe, author of “Saveli’s Expiation,” 
“ Marrying Off a Daughter,” “ Gabrielle,” etc. Translated by Mary Heal Sherxvoeid. 
“ Sonia,” is charming and refined, and is a poAverfnl, graceful, domestic story, display- 
ing the author’s imaginative style and play of fancy, and is charmingly and most beauti- 
fully told — giving one a very distinct idea of every-day home life iu Russia. 

Saveli’s Expiation. By Henry Greville. A dramatic and poAverful novel, and 
a pure love story. Translated from the French, by Mary Heal Sherwood. 

One of the most dramatic and most powerful novels ever published is “ Saveli’s Expi- 
ation,” and although the character on which the plot rests is strongly drawn, it is not 
overdraAvn, but is true to the times and situation. PoAverful as it is, it is free from 
exaggeration, while a pathetic love story is presented for relief. 

Gabrielle; or. The House of Manreze. Translated from the French of 
Henry Griville, the most popular writer in Europe at the present time. 

“Gabrielle; or, The House of Maur^ze,” is a very touching story, most skil- 
fully told, and follows the life of a girl Avhose title it bears; but if we were to tell 
any more of the plot it would be to tell the story, so we advise all persons to get the 
book, and read it. 

Four last are 50 Cents each in paper cover, or $1.00 in cloth, black and gold. 

Books are for sale by all Booksellers, or copies vdll he sent to 
any place, at once, per mail, post-paid, on remitting price to the publishers^ 

T, B. PETERSOIS^ & BROTHERS, 

306 Chestnut St., Philadelphia, Pa. 


69 


OF GOOD NOVELS, AEB THE BEST, LAEGEST, 
AND CHEAPEST BOOKS IN THE WOELD. 

'Price One Dollar Each, in Cloth, Dlack and Gold, 

A WOMAFS THOUGHTS ABOUT WOMEU. By Miss Mulock. 
THE LOVEB^S TEIALS. By Mrs. Mary A. Denison. 

THE PEIDE OF LIFE. A Love Story. By Lady Jane Scott. 

THE BEAUTIFUL WIDOW. By Mrs. Percy B. Sheik y, 

COE A BELMONT ; or, The Sincere Lover. 

TWO WAYS TO MATEIMONY ; or, Is It Love, or. False Pride? 
LOST SIE MASSINGBEED. James Paya’s Best Book. 

THE OLYFFAEDS OF OLYFFE. By James Payn. 

MY SON’S WIFE. By the Author of “Caste.” 

THE EIVAL BELLES; or. Life in Washington. By J. B. Jones. 
THE EEFUGEE. By the author of “ Omoo,” “ Typee,” etc. 

OUT OF THE DEPTHS. The Story of a Woman’s Life. 

THE MATOHMAKEE. A Society Novel. By Beatrice Eeynolds. 
AUNT PATTY’S SOEAP BAG. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz. 
THE STOEY OF “ELIZABETH.” By Miss Thackeray. 
FLIETATIONS IN FASHIONABLE LIFE. By Catharine Sinclair. 
THE HEIEESS IN THE FAMILY. By Mrs. Mackenzie Daniels. 
LOVE AND DUTY. A Love Story. By Mrs. Hubback. 

THE COQUETTE ; or. The Life and Letters of Eliza Wharton. 
SELF-LOVE. A Book for Young Ladies and for Women. 

THE DEVOTED BEIDE. By St. George Tucker, of Virginia. 

THE MAN OF THE WOELD. By William North. 

THE EEOTOE’S WIFE ; or. The Valley of a Hundred Fires. 

THE QUEEN’S FAVOEITE; or. The Price of a Crown. 

COUNTEY QUAETEES. By the Countess of Blessington. 

THE CAVALIEE. A Novel. By G. P. E. James. 

SAEATOGA ! AND THE FAMOUS SPEINGS. A Love Story. 
COLLEY OIBBEE’S LIFE OF EDWIN FOEEEST, with Portrait. 
WOMAN’S WEONG. A Book for Women. By Mrs. Eiloart. 
HAEEM LIFE IN EGYPT AND CONSTANTINOPLE. 

THE OLD PATEOON ; or. The Great Van Broek Property. 

THE MAODEEMOTS OF BALLYOLOEAN. By Anthony Trollope. 
A LONELY LIFE. TEEASON AT HOME. PANOLA! 

JiSB^For sale by all Booksellers and News Agents, and published by 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Pliiladelplila. 


Henry Greville’s Greatest Novel. 


PBEin LITTLE COUIITESS ZIIW, 


A EUSSIAIT STOET. 

BY HHMRY 

AUTHOR OF “DOSIA,’’ MARRYING OFF A DAUGHTER,” “SAVfiLl’S EXPIATION,” 
“SONIA,” “A FRIEND,” AND “ GABRIELLE.” 


TEAUSLATED EEOM THE EEENOH BY MAEY NEAL SHEEWOOD. 


Paper Cover, 75 Cents, Morocco Cloth, Gilt and Black, $1.25. 

** Pretty Little Countess Zina” is a careful study of the Countess Koumias- 
Bine, who, in the most unconscious manner, continues to make all about her very 
wretched by her arbitrary rule and love of power. Zina, the daughter, and youthful 
Countess, bears a certain resemblance to Dosia — that bewitching creature — in lier 
dainty wilfulness, while the ward and cousin, Vassalissa, is a new creation. Mrs. Sher- 
wood has the talent, most rare in a translator, of placing herself fully en rapport with 
the authors with whom she deals. It is therefore unnecessary to say that her part of 
this most charming tale is thoroughly well done, while the publishers deserve immense 
credit for their exertions in making the American public familiar with the best French 
literature, and we wish them all possible success in their enterprise. — Critic. 

HENRY GREVILLE’S GREAT WORKS. 

PEETTY LITTLE COUNTESS ZINA. By Henry Grtville, author of “Dosia,” 
•*Sav41i’s Expiation,” and “ Gabrielle.” Price 75 cents in paper, or $1.25 in cloth. 

DOSIA. By Henry Greville, author of “Saveli’s Expiation,” “Marrying Off a 
Daughter,” “ Sonia,” and “ Gabrielle.” Price 75 cents in paper, or $1.25 in cloth, 

MARRYING OFF A DAUGHTER. By Henry Gr'evilU, author of “ Dosia,” “ Sav6- 
li^s Expiation,” “ Sonia,” and “ Gabrielle.” Price 75 cents in paper, or $1.25 in cloth. 

SAVELI’S EXPIATION. By Henry Gr'eville. A dramatic and powerful novel of 
Russian life, and a pure, pathetic love story. Price 50 cts. in paper, or $1.00 in cloth. 


SONIA. A Russian Story. By Henry Greville^ author of “ Saveli’s Expiation,” 
** Dosia,” and “ Marrying Off a Daughter.” Price 50 cents in paper, or $1.00 in cloth. 


A FRIEND; or, L’AMIE. By Henry Grtville^ author of “Saveli’s Expiation,” 
Dosia,” and “Marrying Off a Daughter.” Price 50 cents in paper, or $1.00 in cloth. 


GABRIELLE; or, THE HOUSE OF MAUREZE. By Henry Gr^ville^ author of 
** Dosia,” “ A Friend,” “ Saveli’s Expiation.” Price 50 cts. in paper, or $1.00 in cloth. 

The oJbove Boohs are printed on tinted papery and are issued in uniform style 
with ^^Theo/^ ^^Kathleen,’^ “il/iss Crespigny’* “Jl ^iet Life” *^Lindsafs Luck” and 
Pretty Polly Pemberton” by Mrs. Burnett^ and are for sale by all Booksellers^ or 
copies will be sent to any one^ at once, post-paidy on remitting price to. the Publishers^ 

72 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 


RS. SOUTHWORTK’S WORKS. 

EACH IS IN ONE MRGE DUODECIMO VOLUME, MOROCCO CLOTH, GILT BACK, PRICE $1.75 EACH. 
Ail or any will be sent free of postage, everywhere, to all, on receipt of remittances. 

ISHMAEL; or, IN THE DEPTHS. (Being “Self-Made; or, Out of Depths.”) 
SELF-RAISED; or, From the Depths. The Sequel to “Ishmael.” 

THE PHANTOM WEDDING; or, the Fall of the House of Flint. 

THE “MOTHER-IN-LAW;” or, MARRIED IN HASTE. 

THE MISSING BRIDE; or, MIRIAM, THE AVENGER. 

VICTOR’S TRIUMPH. The Sequel to “A Beautiful Fiend.” 

A BEAUTIFUL FIEND; or, THROUGH THE FIRE. 

THE LADY OF THE ISLE; or, THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 

FAIR PLAY; or, BRITOMARTE, THE MAN-HATER. 

HOW HE WON HER. The Sequel to “Fair Play.” 

THE CHANGED BRIDES ; or, Winning Her Way. 

THE BRIDE’S FATE. The Sequel to “The Changed Brides.” 
CRUEL AS THE GRAVE; or, Hallow Eve Mystery. 

TRIED FOR HER LIFE. The Sequel to “ Cruel as the Grave.” 

THE CHRISTMAS GUEST ; or. The Crime and the Curse. 

THE LOST HEIR OF LINLITHGOW; or, The Brothers. 

A NOBLE LORD. The Sequel to “The Lost Heir of Linlithgow.” 
THE FAMILY DOOM; or, THE SIN OF A COUNTESS. 

THE MAIDEN WIDOW. The Sequel to “The Family Doom.” 

THE GIPSY’S PROPHECY; or, The Bride of an Evening. 

THE FORTUNE SEEKER; or, Astrea, The Bridal Day. 

THE THREE BEAUTIES ; or, SHANNONDALE. 

FALLEN PRIDE; or, THE MOUNTAIN GIRL’S LOVE. 

THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER; or. The Children of the Isle. 

THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS; or, HICKORY HALL. 

THE TWO SISTERS ; or, Virginia and Magdalene. 

THE FATAL MARRIAGE; or, ORVILLE DEVILLE. 

INDIA; or, THE PEARL OF PEARL RIVER. THE CURSE OF CLIFTON. 

THE WIDOW’S SON; or, LEFT ALONE. THE WIFE’S VICTORY. 
THE MYSTERY OF DARK HOLLOW. 

ALLWORTH ABBEY ; or, EUDORA. 

THE BRIDAL EVE; or, ROSE ELMER. 

VIVIA; or, THE SECRET OF POWER. 

THE HAUNTED HOMESTEAD. 

BRIDE OF LLEWELLYN. THE DESERTED WIFE. RETRIBUTION. 
Mrs. Soiithworth^ s works unit be found for sale by all Booksellers, 

Copies of any one^ or more of Mrs. SoiUhworth’s works, tail I be sent to any 
place, at once, per mail, post-paid, on remitiina price of ones wanted to the Publishers, 

T. B. PBTERSOy & BKOTHEKS, Philadelpliia, Pa. 


THE SPECTRE LOVER. 

THE ARTIST’S LOVE. 
THE FATAL SECRET. 

LOVE’S LABOR WON. 
THE LOST HEIRESS. 


MRS. BURNETT’S CHARMING STORIES. 

FOR SALE BY ALL BOOKSELLERS, AND PUBLISHED BY 

T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia. 

BEmG REPRINTED FROM “ PETERSON’S MAGAZINE,” FOB WMlClf 
THEY WERE AEE ORIGINAEEY WRITTEN. 


1^^** The folloiving Charming Stories were all written by Mrs, Frances 
Hodgson Burnett^ and each one is printed on tinted paper ^ the whole being 
issued in uniform shape and style, in square 12mo. form, being seven of 
the best, most interesting, and choicest love stories ever written. 


“THEO.” A Love Story. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, 
author of “ Kathleen,” Pretty Polly Pemberton,” “ Miss 
Crespigny,” “A Quiet Life,” and Lindsay’s Luck.” 

KATHLEEN. A liove Story. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Bur- 
nett, author of ^‘Theo,” “Miss Crespigny,” “Jarl’s Daughter,” 
“A Quiet Life,” and “ Pretty Polly Pemberton.” 

A QUIET LIFE; and THE TIDE ON THE MOANING 
BAH. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, author of “Theo.” 

MISS CRESPIGNY. A Powerful Love Story. By Mrs. Fances 
Hodgson Burnett, author of “ Theo,” “ Kathleen,” etc. 

PRETTY POLLY PEMBERTON. A Charming Love Story. 
By Mrs. Fances Hodgson Burnett, author of “ Kathleen.” 

Above are 50 Cents each in paper cover, or $1.00 each in cloth, black and gold. 

JARL’S DAUGHTER; and OTHER STORIES. By Mrs. 

Frances Hodgson Burnett, author of “ Theo,” “ Kathleen,” etc. 

LINDSAY’S LUCK. A Love Story. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson 
Burnett, author of “ Theo,” “ Kathleen,” “A Quiet Life,” etc. 

Above are each in one volume, paper cover, price 25 Cents each. 

Above Books are for sale by all Booksellers and News Agents, or 
copies of any one or all of them, will be sent to any place, at once, per 
'mail, post-paid, on remitting price to the Publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 

306 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Fa^ 



All or any will be sent free of postage, everywhere, to all, on receipt of remittances. 

Tlie Connt of Moiate-Cristo. With elegant illustrations, and portraits of Edmond Pantea, 
Mercedes, and Fernand. Price $1.50 in paper cover ; or $1.75 in cloth. 

£clinoncl Dantes. A Sequel to the “Count of Monte-Cristo.” In one large octavo volume. 
Price 75 cents in paper cover, or a finer edition, bound in cloth, for $1.75. 

The Countess of Monte-Cristo. With a portrait of the “Countess of Monte-Cristo ” on 
the cover. One large octavo volume, paper cover, price $1.00 ; or bound in cloth, for $1.75. 

The Three Oiiardsmen; or. The Three Mousquetaires. In one large octavo 
volume. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or a finer edition in cloth, for $1.75. 

Twenty Years After. A Sequel to the “ Three Guardsmen.” In one large octavo volume. 
Price 75 cents in paper cover, or a finer edition, in one volume, cloth, for $1.75. 

Brag^elonne; the Son of Athos. Being the continuation of “ Twenty Years After.” In 
one large octavo volume. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or a finer edition in cloth, for $1.75. 

The Iron Mash. Being the continuation of the “Three Guardsmen,” “Twenty Years After,” 
and “ Bragelonne.” In one large octavo volume. Paper cover, $1.00 ; or in cloth, for $1.75. 

liOiiBse Ba Valliere; or, the Second Series of the “Iron Mask,” and end of “The Three 
Guardsmen ” series. In one large octavo volume. Paper cover, $1.00; or in cloth, for $1.75. 

The Memoirs of a Physician ; or. The Secret History of the Court of Louis the Fifteenth. 
Beautifully Illustrated. In one large octavo volume. Paper cover, $1.00; or in cloth, for $1.75. 

The Queen’s Yechlace; or. The “Second Series of the Memoirs of a Physician.” In one 
large octavo volume. Paper cover, price $1.00 ; or in one volume, cloth, for $1.75. 

Six Years liater; or. Taking of the Bastile. Being the “Third Series of the Memoirs of a 
Physician.” In one large octavo volume. Paper cover, $1.00; or in cloth, for $1.75. 

Countess of Charny; or, Tho Fall of the French Monarchy. Being the “Fourth Series of 
the Memoirs of a Physician.” In one large octavo volume. Paper cover, $1.00; or in cloth, for $1.75. 

Anciree <le Taverney. Being the “ Fifth Series of the Memoirs of a Physician.” In one 
large octavo volume. Paper cover, price $1.00; or in one volume, cloth, for $1.75. 

The Chevalier; or, the “Sixth Series and final conclusion of the Memoirs of a Physician 
Series.” In one large octavo volume. Price $1.00 in paper cover ; or $1.75 in cloth. 

Jose]>h Balsamo. Dumas’ grea,test work, from which the play of “Joseph Balsamo” was 
dramatized, by his sor), Alexander Dumas, Jr. Price $1.00 in paper cover, or $1.50 in cloth. 

The Conscript; or. The Days of the First Napoleon. An Historical Novel. In 
one largo duodecimo volume. Price $1.50 in paper cover; or in cloth, for $1.75. 

Camille; or. The Fate of a Coquette. (“ La Dame aux Camelias.”) This is the only 
true and complete translation of “ Camille,” and it is from this translation that the Play of “Camille,” 
and tho Opera of “ La Traviata ” was adapted to the Stage. Paper cover, price $1.50 ; or in cloth, $1.75. 

Tove and liiherty; or, A Maai of the Deople. (Bene Besson.) A Thrilling Story 
of tho French Revolution of 1792-93. In one large duodecimo volume, paper cover, $1.50 ; cloth, $1.75. 

The Adventures of a Marquis. Paper cover, $1.00; or in one volume, cloth, for $1.75. 

The Forty-Five Cruardsmen. Paper cover, $1.00; or in one volume, cloth, for $1.75. 

Diana of Meridor. Paper cover, $1.00; or in one volume, cloth, for $1.75. 

Tho Iron Hand. Price $1.00 in paper cover, or in one volume, cloth, for $1.75. 

Isabel of Bavaria, QiM?en of France. In one large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

Annette; or. The Dady of the Pearls. A Companion to “Camille.” Price 75 cents. 

The Fallen Ang^el. A Story of Love and Life in Paris. One large volume. Price 75 cents. 

The Mohicans of Paris. In one large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

The Horrors of Paris. In one large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

The Man with Five Wives. In one large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

Sketches in France. In one large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

Felina de Fhambure; or. The Female Fiend. Price 75 cents. 

The Twin DieutciBants; or, The Soldier’s Bride. Price 75 cents. 

Madame de Chamblay. In one large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

The Black Tulip. In one large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

The Corsican Brothers. In one large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

Oeorgre; or. The Planter of the Isle of France. Price 50 cents. 

The Connt of Moret. In one large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

The Marriag’e Verdict. In one large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

Buried Alive. In one large octavo volume. Price 25 cents. 

Above boohs are for sale by all Booksellers and News Agents ^ or copies of aTvy 
one or more, will be sent to any one, post-paid, on remitting price to the Publishers, 

T. B. PETERSOIS^ & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 


GEORGE W. M. REYNOLDS’ WORKS. 

NEW AND BEAUTIFUL EDITIONS, JUST READY. 

Each Work is complete and unabridged, in one large volume. 

All or any will be sent free of postage, everywhere, to all, on receipt of remittances. 

Mysteries of tiae Court of L.oncloii ; heing THE MYSTEKIES OF THE COURT OF 
GEORGE THE THIRD, with th». Life and Times of the PRINCE OF WALES, afterward GEORGE 
THE FOURTH. Complete in one large volume, bound in cloth, price ^1.75 ; or in paper cover, price $1.00. 

Rose Foster ; or, the “ Second Series of the Mysteries of the Court of London.” Complete in on© 
large volume, bound in cloth, price $1.7d ; or in paper cover, price $1.50. 

Caroliiae of BruiiswicR ; or, the “Third Series of the Jlysteries of the Court of London.” 
Complete in one large volume, bound in cloth, price $1.75; or in paper cover, juice $1. CO. 

Vonetia Trelawiiey ; being the ‘ Fourth Series - r fit al conclusion of the Mysteries of the Court 
of lx)ndon.” Complete in one large volume, bound in cloth, price $1.75 ; or in paper cover, price $1.00. 

IjOrd Saxoiidale; or, The Couit of Queen Victoria. Complete in one large volume, bound in 
cloth, price $1.75 ; or in paper cover, price $1.00. 

Foiisit FSiristoval. The “Sequel to Lord Saxondale.” Complete in one largo volume, bound 
In cloth, pi'ice $1.75 ; or in paper cover, price $1.00. 

Ro-^a fiambert; or. The Memoirs of an Unfortunate Woman. Complete in one large volume, 
bound in cloth, price $1.75 ; or in paper cover, price $1.00. 

JoHe|>li Wiliiiot; or. The Memoirs of a Man Servant. Complete in one largo volume, bound in 
cloth, price $1.75; or in paper cover, price $1.00. 

Tlie Ranker’s Ran^later. A Sequel to “Joseph Wilmot.” Complete in one large volume, 
bound in cloth, price $1.75; or in paper cover, price $1.00. 

Tlie Rye-Sfonse Plot; or, Ruth, the Conspirator’s Daughter. Complete in one large volume, 
bound in cloth, price $1.75 ; or in paper cover, price $1.00. 

The Neei’oaaiaiicea*. Being the Mysteries of the Court of Henry the Eighth. Complete in 
one large volume, bound in cloth, price $1.75; or in paper cover, pi’ice $1.0'i. 

Mary Price; or, The Adventures of a Servant Maid. One voL, cloth, price $1.75 ; or in paper. $1 00. 
Rustace Q,aaentiii. A “Sequel to Mary Price.” One vol., cloth, price $1.75; or in paper, $1.00. 
The Mysteries of the €oiii*t of j^aplcs. Price $1.00 in paper cover; or $1.75 in cloth. 
Keeiiieth. A Romance of the Highlands. One vol., cloth, price $1.75 ; or in paper cover, $1 .00. 
Wallace; the Hero of v^cotlaiaH. Illustrated with B8 plates. Paper, $1.C0; cloth, $1.75. 
The Gipsy Chief. Beautifully Illnslrated. Price $1.00 in paper cover, or $1.75 in cloth. 
Robert Briitce ; the Hero of Scotlaiid. Illustrated. Paper, $1.00; cloth, $1.75. 

The Opera I>asicer ; or. The Mysteries of London Life. Price 75 cents. 

Isabella ViaBcesit; or. The Two Orphans. One large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 
Viviaii Rertrani ; or, A Wife’s Honor. A Sequel to “Isabella Vincent.” Price 75 cents. 
The Countess of Fascelies. The Continuation to “Vivian 1 ertram.” Price 75 cents. 
l>ukc of Marchmoait. Being the Conclusion of “ The Countess of Lascellcs.” Price 75 cents. 
The Child of Waterloo ; or. The Horrors of the Rattle Field. Price 75 cents. 

Pickwick Abroa<l. A Companion to the “Pickwick Papers,” by “Boz.” Price 75 cents. 
The Couiitess and the Page. One large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

Mary Stuart, <I«ieeu of Scots, Comjilete in one large octavo volume. Price 76 cents. 
The Soldier’s Wife. Illustrated. One largo octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

May Middleton ; or. The History of a Fortune. In one large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 
The Iioves of the Harcan. One large octavo volume. Price 76 cents. 

Pi leal Percy; or, The Memoirs of an Actress. One large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

The Discarded Q^ueeai. One large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

Agaies Evelyn ; or. Beauty and Pleasure. One large octavo volume. Price 75 cents. 

The Massaei*e of Gleiieoe. One large octavo vohime. Price 75 cents. 

The Parricide; or, Youtli’s Career in Crime. Beautifully Illustrated. I’rice 75 cents. 
EiSiriiaa; or. The Secrets of a Picture Gallery. One volume. Price 5ii cents. 
The Rciiaied Gamester. With Illustrations. One large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 
Eafe ias Paris. Handsomely illustrated. One large octavo volume. Price £0 cents. 

Clifford and the Actress. One large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

Edgar Montrose. One large octavo volume. Price 50 cents. 

^^The above works will be found for sale by all Booksellers and News Agents. 

Copies of any one, or more, or all of Reynolds' ^vorks, will be sent to any place, 
at once, post-paid, on remitting price of ones wanted to the Publishers, 

T. B. TETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 



The following New Books are printed on tinted paper , and ere issued in uniform 
sfyloy in square 12mo. form. Price Fifty Cents each in Paper Cover y or One Dollar each 
in Morocco Clothy Black and Gold. They are the most charming Novels ever printed. 


KATHLEEN. A Love Storv. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, author of 
“ Theo,” “ Miss Crespigny,” and “ Pretty Polly Pemberton,” etc. 

“THEO.” A Love Story. By Mrs. Fra7ices Hodgson Burnett, author of ^‘Kath- 
leen,” “ Pretty Polly Pemberton,” “ Miss Crespiguy,” “A Quiet life,” etc. 

PRETTY POLLY PEMBERTON. A Powerful Love Story. By Mrs. Frances Hodg- 
son Burnett, author of “ Theo,” “ Kathleen,” and “ Miss Crespigny.” 

MISS CRESPIGNY. A Charming Love Story. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Bur- 
nett, author of “ Theo,” “ Kathleen,” “ JarPs Daughter,” and “ A Quiet Life.” 

A QUIET LIFE. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, author of “ Theo,” “ Kath- 
leen,” “ Pretty Polly Pemberton,” “ Miss Crespigny,” “ JarTs Daughter,” etc. 

A FRIEND; or, L’AMI. author of “ Sonia,” “ Saveli’s Expia- 

tion,” and “ Marrying Off a Daughter.” Translated hy Miss Helen Sta^dey. 

SONIA. A Russian Story. By Henry Greville, author of “ Marrying Off a 
Daughter,” “ Saveli’s Expiation,” “ Gabrielle.” Translated hy Mary Neal Sherwood. 

SAVELI’S EXPIATION. By Henry Greville. A dramatic and powerful novel of 
Russian life, and a ])ure, pathetic love story. Translated by Mary Neal Sherwood, 

GABRIELLE; or, THE HOUSE OF MAUREZE. By Henry Greville, author of 
‘‘Sav6ii’s Expiation,” “Dosia,” “Marrying Off a Daughter,” etc. 

A WOMAN’S MISTAKE; or, JACQUES DE TREVANNES. A Charming Love 
Story. From the French of Madame Angele Bussaud, by Mary Neal Sherwood. 

MADAME POMPADOUR’S GARTER; or, THE DAYS OF MADAME POMPA- 
DOUR. A Romance of the Reign of Louis XV. By Gabrielle Be St. Andre, 

THE MATCHMAKER. A Charming Novel. By Beatrice Reynolds. All the 
characters and scenes in it have ail the freshness of life, and all the vitality of truth. 

TWO WAYS TO MATRIMONY; or, IS IT LOVE? or, FALSE PRIDE. A book 
for Ladies and Gentlemen ; for Parents, and for all those contemplating Matrimony. 

THAT GIRL OF MINE. A Love Story. By the author of That Lover of Mined' 
It is one of the most brilliant novels of Washington City society ever issued. 

THE RED HILL TRAGEDY. A Novel. By Mrs. Emma B. E. N, Southworth, 
author of “Ishmael,” “Seif- Raised,” “The Mother-in-Law,” etc. 

THE AMOURS OF PHILLIPPE. A History of “ Phillippe’s Love Affairs.” 
By Octave Feuillet, author of “ The Count de Camors, the Man of the Second Empire.’* 

BESSIE’S SIX LOVERS. A Charming Love Story, of the ])urest and best kind. 

THAT LOVER OF MINE. A Love Story. By author of ^^That Girl of Mine." 

STORY OF “ELIZABETH.” By Miss Thackeray, daughter of W. M. Thackeray. 

Above Cooks are 50 Cents each in Paper Cover, or $1.00 each in Cloth. 

Above Books are for sale by all Booksellers and News Agents, or copies of an'^ 
sue or more, will be sent to any place, post-paid, on remitting price to the publishers, 

T. B. PETERSOX & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, P.a. 


‘* It is worth double its price.” — Ottawa^ (Canada), Advertiser. 


esT OHIE^IPEST JLIiTID BESTI“@a 




t ^ 0 f 

J^FULL-SiZE PAPER PATTERnS!"^ 


A Supplement will he given in every numher for 1879, containing a fuTl.size pattern sheet for a 
hxdfs, or child' i dress. livery subscriber will receive, during the year, twelve of these patterns, so that these 
alm.e xvill he worth more than the subscription price. Great improvements vjill also be made in other re- 
spects.“%^ 

. . ■■ * ■ ■— 


“Peterson’s Magazine ” contains, every year, 1000 pages, 14 steel plates. 12 colored Berlin pattemsi, 
12 rnaniniotii colored fashion plates, 24 pages of music, and about 9b0 wood cuts. lis principal embel- 
lishments are 

SUPERB STEEL ENGRAVINGS! 


Its immense circnlation enables its proprietor to spend more on embellishments, stories, &c. than 
any other. It gives more for the money, awl combines more merits, than any in tie world. Its 



Are the best published anywhere. All the most popular writers are employed to v)rite oH gin ally fen* 
Peierson.'' In 1879, in adcliiion to the usual quantity of short stories, FIVE OIllGIN.VL COPYRIGHT 
NOVELETTES Avill be givi'H, by Ann S. Stephens, Frank Lee Benedict, Frances Iludgsou Burnett, 
Jane G. Austin, and that uuri vailed humorist, the author of “ Josiah Allen’s M ife.” 



Ahead of nil others. Tho.so plates are engraved on steel, twice the usual size, and are unequalled for 
hciiu'y. They will be superbly colored. Also, Household and other I'cceipts; articles on ‘‘ \Vax-\\ oi k. 
Flowers,” “Management of Infants;” in short everytliing intere.sting to ladies. - 

IC. B . — As the publishers notv prepay the postage to all mail subscribers, Peterson'' is che-apee than 
ever; in fact is the cheapest in the world 


TERMS (Always in Advance) $2*00 A “YEAR. 

^£^10^3 TO CS:.tX3B3 ^ 


2 Copies for $3.50 

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5 Copies for $8.00 

1 “ “ 10.50 


C With a copy of the premium picture (24 x 20) “ Ciirist Blessing 
: I.iTTLE Children,” a five dollar enoraving, to the person getting up 
(, the Club. 

J With an extra cop}-^ of the Magazine for 1879, as a premium, to 
( the pern-on getting up the Club. 

{ IVith both an extra copy of the Magazine for 1879, and tho 
premium picture, a five dollar engraving, to the person getting up 
the Club. 

Address, post-paid, 

CHARLES J. PETERSON, 

306 Cliestnut St., Pliiladelpliia, Po 


Specimens sent grat;* if mitten for. 


NEW ^ND FOPyUR iOOKS 

BY THE BEST AUTHORS, FOR SALE BY ALL BOOKSELLERS, AND PUBLISHED BY 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, PHILADELPHIA. 


PHILOMENE’S MAEKIAGES. With a Preface hy the Author. By Henry Gr'e^ 
%'ilte, author of “ Dosia.” Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth. 

PRETTY LITTLE COUNTESS ZINA. By Henry Ch^tvilLe, author of “Dosia/' and 

Saveli’s Expiation.’’ Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth. 

JARL’S DAUGHTER; AND OTHER TALES. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, 
author of “ Theo,” “ Kathleen,” and “ Miss Crespigny.” Paper cover, price 25 cents. 

LINDSAY’S LUCK. A Love Story. By 3Irs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, author of 
“ Theo,” “ Kathleen,” and “Pretty Polly Pemberton.” Paper cover, price 25 cents. 

FATHER TOM AND THE POPE ; or, A.NIGHT AT THE VATICAN. With Ulus, 
trations of scenes between the Pope and Father Tom. Paper, 50 cents, cloth, $1.00. 

THE COUNT DE C AMORS. The 3Ian of the Second Empire. By Octave Feuillet, 
author of “Amours of Phillippe.” Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth. 

SYBIL BROTHERTON. By 3Irs. E. D. E. N. Southworth, author of “Ishmael,” 
“ Self- Raised,” etc. Price 50 cents in paper cover, or $1.00 in cloth, black and gold. 

THE ABBE’S TEMPTATION. A Love Story. By Emile Zola, author of “ Helene.” 
His Greatest Work. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth, black and gold. 

THE SWAMP DOCTOR’S ADVENTURES IN THE SOUTH-WEST. With Fourteen 
Illustrations by Parley. Morocco cloth, gilt and black. Price $1.50. 

THE SHADOW OF HAMPTON MEAD. A Charming Story. By Elizabeth Van 
Loon, author of “A Heart Twice Won.” Cloth, black and gold. Price $1.50. 

A HEART TWICE WON; or, SECOND LOVE. By 3Irs. Elizabeth Van Loon, 
autlior of “The Shadow of Hampton Mead.” Cloth, black and gold. Price $1.50. 

HELENE. A Tale of Love, Passion and Remorse. By Emile Zola, author of “The 
Abba’s Temptation.” Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth. 

MADELEINE. A Charming Love Story. By Jules Sandeau. Crowned by the 
French Academy. Uniform with “ Dosia.” Paper cover. Price 50 cents. 

D 03 1 A Russian Story. By Henry Greville, author of “ Marrying Off a Daughter,” 

Saveli’s Expiation,” and “ Gabrielle.” Price 75 cents in paper, or $1.25 in cloth. 

MARRYING OFF A DAUGHTER. A Love Story. By Henry Grtville, author of 
“ Dosia,” and “ Saveli’s Expiation.” Price 75 cents in paper, or $1.25 in cloth. 

CA.RMEN. By Prosper 3Ierimee, from which the opera of '‘^Carmen^^ was drama- 
tized. Uniform with “ Kathleen,” etc. Price 50 cents in paper, or $1.00 in cloth. 

COLONEL THORPE’S SCENES IN ARKANSAW. With Sixteen Illustrations, 
from Ori‘j:inarDesigns by Darlev^ Mor«o^l(l^, gild|Bd black. Price $1.50. 

^ FANCHON, THE CRICKET ;|pfeA JE^fi^F A dHtE. By George Sand. Thit 
is the original work fi^y^vhi»harie play of ^^P'anchon, the Cricket^ as presented O'l 
the stage, was dramnii^ff^^Q 50 cents in paper cover, or a finer edition, in a larger 
duodecimo volume, bound in^i^-o^b clot|i^3lack and gold, price $1.50. 

Above Books are for sale by all Booksellers and Neivs Agents, or copies of any 
one or mm'e, will be sent to any place, post-paid, on remitting price to the publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa, 











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